Stumbling Toward Elysia
by Prioris
Summary: MP3, Samus/Gandrayda. "Nicknames are for friends and lovers, and you're neither." A look at what might have transpired between two of the galaxy's greatest bounty hunters in the years before the Phaaze Incident.
1. Welcome Back

Stumbling Toward Elysia  
a Metroid fan-fiction

Disclaimer: The characters, places and events of "Metroid Prime 3: Corruption" belong to Nintendo of America and Retro Studios. I don't own them, nor do I have any financial interest in borrowing them. Attack lawyers may be checked at the bar; they'll be returned when you leave...

Like the game from whence it springs, this story is rated T for language and violence. It also contains a light sprinkle of shoujo-ai content in later chapters.

* * *

Deep in the vastness of uninhabited space, in a backwater region of the Kalandor sector, lay a tiny solar system known only on a few highly classified charts. Normally traversed only by the occasional freighter or patrol craft, the system currently boasted no less a presence than the Third Fleet of the Galactic Federation Navy. The fleet hung in space at a Lagrangian point a few million kilometers away from the smallest of the system's planets, a green Earthlike world called Norion. 

Just outside the influence of the system's gravity well, space itself began to ripple and boil. A brilliant arrowhead of energy speared out from the disturbance, and at the end of the arrowhead, a spacecraft emerged. The interloper was only slightly larger than the Stiletto fighter craft that patrolled the space around the fleet, and her brilliant orange and red paint scheme stood out in screaming contrast to the haze gray all around. Diving into the throng of warships, she wove nimbly in and out of the formation, making for the largest of the vessels, a behemoth of a spacecraft carrier over a kilometer long.

In the ship's cockpit, the communications system beeped and crackled, and a harried-sounding voice grated from the speakers. "Attention unidentified vessel, this is Norion Astro Control. You are approaching military restricted space. Please switch to a secure frequency and identify yourself."

In response, the pilot thumbed a radio switch, speaking in a flat, synthetically generated voice. "Astro Control, this is _Hunter III,_ private registry gunship out of Aliehs, PIC aboard. I've been summoned to a meeting with your fleet admiral and a few other bounty hunters. Transmitting security clearances now."

"_Hunter III,_ stand by." A moment later, the controller came back on the line. "_Hunter III,_ you are cleared for Docking Bay 5 on the _Olympus_. Navpoints will take you in. Good to have you back."

"Thank you. Out."

The gunship executed a looping turn and ascended into the docking bay, sliding neatly onto an empty landing pad as the carrier's artificial gravity killed the last of her momentum. A moment later, the ventral hatch popped open, and a nearby work party stopped their task, turning to stare with goggle-eyed fascination as a tall humanoid in powered armor stepped down to the deck.

"Holy shit, is that really...?"  
"That's the dude that killed all those Space Pirates, right?"  
"Dude? I heard it was a betty in there."  
"Get outta here. A betty blow up a whole Pirate base all by her lonesome? No way."  
"I thought that was just a little kid's story, you know, like Santa Claus..."

The Marine docking bay guard snapped to attention as the hunter approached, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning. The cavalry had arrived. "Welcome aboard, Samus."

The short trip from the _GFS Olympus_' docking bay to the flag deck took the hunter much longer than it should have, with every crewperson she met stopping her to introduce themselves, declare their admiration, or simply wish her a pleasant visit. The experience of celebrity was rather new to her, and more than once she found herself grateful that her visor hid her discomfiture from all those admiring eyes.

The bridge hummed with activity as she stepped through the hatch, and in a refreshing change of pace, the crew paid Samus no attention at all as she climbed the ladder up to the command level. A Marine guard stood before the hatchway, his weapon at port arms, and she walked over to him, waving slightly to draw his attention. "Good afternoon," she said politely. "I understand I'm supposed to meet the Admiral?"

"Admiral Dane's in the briefing room," the young lance corporal said, his face painfully earnest behind his visor. "There's a suit maintenance station just down the starboard passageway, if you want to perform any data backup before the meeting."

"Thanks, but I did that aboard my ship," she said, allowing herself a smirk that she knew the Marine couldn't see. _Next they'll be wanting to make sure I went to the bathroom before I left the house,_ she thought sardonically.

"Then you're good to go."

"Thank you." The clank of her armored boots on the deck echoed in the confined space of the passageway as she opened the briefing room hatch and stepped inside.

Out of long-standing habit, Samus surveyed the briefing room and its occupants as soon as she crossed the threshold. Two crewmen operated the room's command consoles, while Admiral Dane discussed something with a third - _how he reminds me of Adam,_ she thought. Rundas and another bounty hunter she didn't recognize looked on, chatting about the inanities of the business. Behind them stood yet another figure, and she stopped in mid-step as she saw herself emerge from behind Rundas' bulky frame.

The twin hunters stared at each other for a long, tense moment, and Samus fought to keep her finger from tightening on her cannon's trigger. _Who in all the hells IS that? And why aren't the others saying anything? There's two of me standing here! They've GOT to know that's a fake!_

Dane glanced up from his conversation and directed a glare at the first hunter. "That's enough," he grumbled, and with a laugh, she vanished. In her place stood a slender young woman with purple skin, the hair-like fronds atop her head cut rakishly short and styled into tight waves. She winked at Samus, who swallowed hard as the other woman's magenta eyes met her own.

_Gandrayda. How long has it been? _

* * *

"Attention all personnel," the soothing voice of AU 242 droned over the clangor of battle. "Condition Red is in effect. Report to your battle stations. This is not an exercise." 

Samus and the other hunters had arrived at GFB Norion mere minutes after the Space Pirate fleet dropped out of hyperspace, but for the invaders, those minutes had sufficed to tear the base apart. The Pirates had disabled the artillery battalion first from orbit, and then landed hordes of troops to continue the fight on the ground. That follow-up attack had reduced the control center to a shambles, with destroyed equipment littering the hallways and pieces of the structure itself collapsing all around them.

As Samus folded herself into ball form and rolled underneath one such piece of wreckage, the massive blast door guarding the entrance to Generator C flew backward off its tracks, accompanied by a dying Pirate berserker and a massive combat mecha. "This one has finished bothering us. Now go restart that generator before we're all vaporized!" Ghor yelled, his cybernetic limbs waving wildly as he dealt a titanic punch to the beast's cranial plate.

_All right, fine, no need to get nasty about it,_ Samus thought as she sprinted down the Generator C access corridor.

The blast doors rumbled shut behind her as she ran into the main generator chamber, and she chanced a glance back just in time to see them spin and seal themselves, cutting off her escape. At the same time, she realized she wasn't alone. Five Pirate troopers stood in a circle around the generator, and their insectile expressions ranged from amused to blood-thirsty.

_This could be ugly,_ Samus thought, staring at the massed troopers, painfully aware of her limited cover, limited arsenal and even more limited energy reserves. _If I can knock one or two of them down the shaft, even the odds a little, I might have a chance - hey, what the hell is that one doing?_

Her mental question was answered as one of the troopers unsheathed its energy scythe and snapped a fresh magazine into its weapon. Rather than attacking her, however, it turned on its brethren, who rapidly wilted under the combination of melee blows and galvanic accelerator fire.

Hunter and Pirate stared at each other, now alone in the generator chamber. As Samus raised her cannon, the renegade Pirate began to laugh, and suddenly it wasn't a Pirate at all. She could only stare in shock as Gandrayda appeared where the trooper had so recently stood.

"Space Pirate gray is definitely not my style. And machines aren't my thing either, so I'll let you get this thing back online." She smiled seductively as she made to leave. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Don't call me that," Samus replied flatly, finally finding her voice. "Nicknames are for friends and lovers. And you're neither."

Gandrayda stopped and walked back toward Samus, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "That's too bad. You always were my favorite. Something about you tightly wound types just drives me wild." She leaned in close, close enough that her breath misted the outer glass of the other hunter's visor. "You remember, don't you?"

The shapeshifter turned and sauntered away, leaving a shaking Samus in her wake.

She remembered, all right. Entirely too well.

* * *

Author's Note: Nothing too big here, just scene-setting. Although what exactly transpired between Samus and Gandrayda that would make Samus act that way...?

As _MP3_ featured the third major design revision to the Hunter-class gunship, this one's rather predictably named _Hunter III._ Presumably _Hunter II_ (the _MP2_/_Metroid 2_/_Super Metroid_/beginning of _Fusion_ model) is still in the shop after being half-wrecked on Aether.

Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Thank you for reading.


	2. First Meetings

Chapter 2: First Meetings

* * *

If a prehistoric observer had somehow been dropped into the middle of New Pacifica's central plaza, he, she or it would probably find modern life to approach the kind of utopia that had once been reserved for works of fantasy. People lived free of most diseases, hungers and fears; starships enabled rapid movement of people and goods; the galactic information networks provided instant exchange of information; and individuals could pursue their own lives largely as they pleased. However, one aspect of life had remained constant across all the millennia and all the realms of civilization, and that was law enforcement. The first-floor annex of the New Pacifica Federal Building, home to the Galactic Federation Police 128th District Headquarters, would have been just as recognizable to a Roman Vigilius Urbani, a New York City beat cop, a Bryyonian Justice Lord or an Acerian inquisitor. The atmosphere of weary officers, protesting criminals and screaming victims packed into aging facilities and beset with mountains of bureaucracy translated across all cultures, times and places. 

In the sea of sentient lifeforms that seethed in the police station's public waiting area, a tall humanoid figure stood, calmly surveying the crowd. Brilliant yellow and red armor covered his body from head to toe, and a massive beam cannon replaced his right forearm. Accusers and accused alike scurried out of his way as he strode toward the sergeant's desk, holding a struggling Egenoid man by his manacled wrists.

"I would like to turn in a fugitive," the armored man said, his voice rendered flat and inflectionless by his helmet's speech synthesizer.

"Fappin' robot, let me GO!" the Egenoid yelled, writhing madly in a futile attempt to wrench free of the metal hand that restrained him.

"Welcome back," Sergeant Anders Wiren commented, looking up from his terminal at the metallic form he had become so accustomed to seeing. Over the last few years, the bounty hunter on the other side of the desk had leaped up the rankings, dragging in scores of outlaws, most of whom had eluded far more experienced members of the fugitive apprehension trade. "Who'd you bring me this time?"

"Erbe Marien, contract number 51995, wanted for racketeering, smuggling and interplanetary traffic in sentient beings," the hunter replied. To the prisoner, he added, "You will only hurt yourself if you continue to struggle."

Wiren raised an eyebrow at the fugitive's name; Marien had graced the top of the wanted lists for nearly a year, laughing at the best efforts of all who had tried to apprehend him. "That a fact?"

The hunter simply inclined his head. Although he could only see his own face reflected in the other man's blank green visor, Wiren suspected that the hunter was glaring at him, and he cleared his throat to cover his nerves.

"Ahem. Sorry, Mr. Aran. Anyway, we'll get this guy down to booking. I just need a handscan for your credit voucher."

"Thank you," the hunter replied in the same flat tone as always, placing his left palm against the desk-mounted reader to accept his payment. "See you next mission."

As the hunter walked out of the annex and down the building's front ramp, a voice called out, "Nice catch, cowboy."

The hunter stopped and turned, in time to see a woman emerge from behind one of the pillars supporting the building's facade. "Can I help you, miss?" he said evenly.

"Oh, not really, I'm just a fan of yours is all," the woman said in the same honeyed voice, and her mannerisms fairly screamed her intentions as she shimmied up to the hunter. "I saw you took down Erbe Marien today. That's some trick. How'd you do it?"

"Trade secret," the hunter said, remaining utterly motionless throughout the exchange, in a manner eerily reminiscent of an android.

The hunter's stilted affect didn't deter the would-be courtesan one bit. "So you're the strong silent type. I like that." Shifting from one foot to the other, and not coincidentally swaying her hips in the process, the strange woman continued, "Is it still legal to show a guy a good time around here?"

"Of course," he replied. "However, I do not require entertainment. Have a pleasant day." With that, he was gone, leaving her to stare at the back of his armor as he marched off into the crowds.

The worst part was, she hadn't even gotten a chance to find out his name.

* * *

"Griffin draft, burger and fries. That'll be fifteen even." 

"Start a tab," she replied, handing the bartender a credit chip, which he took with a nod.

_Cheeseburger in paradise,_ Samus thought happily as her meal arrived a few minutes later. Even though the sandwich wasn't particularly good by any absolute standard, it tasted heavenly to the hunter, and she devoured the light meal as though she hadn't seen food in days. Which she hadn't - her armor's life-support system used stored energy to meet its wearer's metabolic needs. The system greatly simplified both nutrition and sanitary management, but it also meant that she couldn't consume anything more than small sips of water while suited. After a week or so of that kind of existence, the ability to sit down and eat a meal took on a whole new significance.

"Hey, this seat taken?" came a voice from behind. Samus looked up, caught with a mouthful of beer, and barely managed to avoid choking as she took in the newcomer's appearance. The woman - or at least she assumed it was a female, based on its body shape – apparently hailed from a culture that didn't believe in nudity taboos, as she wore only a few carefully wound strips of fabric to protect her modesty, and those left practically nothing to the imagination. Whoever or whatever she was, though, she was stunningly beautiful, her classically cut features and brilliant violet complexion defying both age and species identification.

"Help yourself," she replied.

"Thanks. Sometimes it's tough to get a seat in here, y'know?"

"Actually, I don't," Samus said, half-shrugging. "I'm not from around here."

"Ah, then we have to welcome you to New Pacifica properly," the woman replied. Signaling to the bartender, she called out, "I'll have a Supernova, and get my friend here another of whatever she's having."

Quirking one eyebrow, Samus commented dryly, "Do you always buy drinks for people you don't know?"

The purple-skinned woman replied with a self-deprecating smirk. "Sorry. My manners don't get a lot of play around here. I'm Gandrayda. And you are...?"

A number of aliases rose to mind, but in the end she decided on a simple abbreviation. After all, 'Sam' could be short for anything.

"Nice to meet you." Gandrayda smiled, revealing perfectly white, even teeth. "So, now that we know each other, how about that drink?"

Samus couldn't help but laugh at the other woman's enthusiasm. _Lighten up a little,_ she thought. _When was the last time you kicked back and enjoyed life for a change?_

"So, what do you do for a living?" Gandrayda asked once the bartender had brought their drinks.

"I'm self-employed," Samus replied. "Private security and resource management."

"That sounds like a very discreet way of calling a hired gun," Gandrayda chuckled. "Not that I'm one to talk, though. I'm in corporate intelligence. Occasionally I do some freelance work, too."

The blonde simply stared at her, nonplussed. Even as far as aliens went, and she'd seen hundreds of them, Gandrayda's features made her an impossible face to forget. "Forgive me for a dumb question, but most moles I've met aren't quite so... distinctive."

"Oh, you mean this?" And with that, the alien woman disappeared, replaced by a nondescript-looking, dark-skinned human male. "Or this?" and a Cetian towered where the man had been. "Or this?" and an identical clone of Samus perched on the barstool next to the original.

"I see," Samus replied, inwardly awed at the other woman's metamorphoses. She'd heard of shapeshifters before, but never seen one in person. "That must come in handy in your line of work."

Gandrayda reverted to her true form and began to laugh, slinging one arm around Samus' shoulders. "What?" the hunter queried, a bit unsettled by the gesture, and Gandrayda only laughed harder. "Nothing. You're a breath of fresh air, is all. Most people see my little act and either stare at me like a freak or ask me to turn into their wildest fantasy."

A spark flickered behind those cool blue eyes for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone, replaced by her usual calm regard. "I guess I just prefer the real world to dreams."

"Here's to the real world, then." Taking a sip of her cocktail, Gandrayda concluded, "Although, if you have some time, I can show you around and stuff. New Pacifica's actually a pretty cool city underneath all the glitz."

"That's an interesting offer, but I have a busy day tomorrow." Samus finished off the last of her drink and signaled for her tab. Strangely, though, she pressed her left palm to the signature pad, instead of the right that she'd been using for everything else.

"Anyway, I'm going to call it a night," she said, sliding off the stool. "It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the drink and the company."

"It was my pleasure," the shapeshifter said with a grin. "Goodnight, Sammy."

"Huh?"

"You know, like Sammy Stargazer. From Galaxy Squad?" Off the blonde's confused look, she continued, "One of my favorite holovid shows. And since it kinda goes with your name, I thought..."

"I see." It wasn't what Samus would have chosen for herself, but as far as nicknames went, she could have come off far worse. She smiled as she headed out the door. "Goodnight."

* * *

Author's Note: So _that's _where the nickname came from. ;-) This chapter and the others in its line are set well before any of the games, as nobody has yet figured out who or what inhabits that amazing Chozo armor... 

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you!


	3. No Good Deed

Chapter 3: No Good Deed

* * *

_For a sector-wide drug ring, you'd sure think these guys could afford a nicer hideout,_ Gandrayda thought snidely as she took the deck of cards from the goon seated next to her. The hideout, an abandoned warehouse, was dimly lit by low-power arc lights, and the stench of chemicals, rotten food and various forms of smoke hung thickly in the air. 

The enterprise into which Gandrayda had insinuated herself was controlled by a human colonist who went only by the name of Lafas, and it had rapidly grown from a street-level pusher network into one of the bigger drug operations in Federation space. Disguised as a foot soldier in Lafas' inner circle, she had spent the last three weeks gathering information for her client, a legal pharmaceutical company that nonetheless didn't mind using less-than-legal tactics to boost its market share. Of course, since Lafas also boasted a seventy-five thousand credit bounty, and her "consulting agreement" didn't forbid her from taking outside jobs, that same information would also net her a substantial sum of cash when she flipped it - and with any luck, Lafas with it – to the police.

"Word on the street is some cowboy's out gunnin' for the boss," one of the foot soldiers said, absently rubbing his fingers together as though rolling a pill between them. Within a half hour or so, he'd need another fix or his nervous system would begin to shut down.

"There's always someone gunning for the boss," Gandrayda replied, dealing out the next hand. "If we had a tenner for every cowboy and pharmo that's tried and died, we could all retire rich. Five to play, aces are wild."

"Besides, everyone's got a hook," commented a second goon, studying his cards. "Money, drugs, tail. En't nobody in the galaxy that's untouchable – and if he is, we wax him. Problem solved."

"Yeah, but they say this guy's really good," a third muttered, throwing a handful of coins into the center of the table. "I heard he's not even alive."

Crook number four, a thick-set Satorian, scoffed as he returned his cards to the deck. "Fold. And what kinda shit you been shootin', huh Motie? Dead guys don't hunt heads. They're dead."

"Be pretty cool if you could get dead guys to do whiff, uh?" the pill-rolling goon giggled.

"Maybe a robot, though," Gandrayda said as she threw in her own ante. "An AI isn't alive, but it'll kick your ass all day long."

A string of curses echoed from across the room, as one of Lafas' lieutenants smacked the computer terminal irritably. "Something's wrong with the computer. I was cruising the nets and all of a sudden it locked up."

"So restart it," another thug commented.

"Won't work. It just says 'illegal operation,' and all the little lights are going like nuts."

_Probably he was on a nudie net and didn't bother to put up the hack barrier,_ Gandrayda thought._ Serves him right._

A series of mechanical clicks from the door drew everyone's attention, and Lafas' men began nervously to reach for their weapons. "Don't think it's the high-hats, do you?" one goon muttered.

"Hell, no," the Satorian replied. "With what we pay 'em? Cops are dumb, but they en't that dumb."

A second later, the door burst open, and a massive humanoid figure stormed through the entryway. Jaws dropped all around the room as they realized that the intruder's entire body was metal, gleaming dull gold in the dim orangeish light.

"Drop your weapons and freeze," the intruder said, his synthetic voice echoing harshly off the warehouse's walls. "Where is Lafas?"

"Ah, he no here," one of the goons said, as another, no doubt with delusions of glory, edged toward the armored man with a laser pistol in his hand. No sooner had he begun to raise his weapon, though, than the stranger fired a single round from the cannon attached to his right arm, vaporizing both the pistol and the hand that held it. As the goon screamed in agony, waving the stump of his arm, the armored intruder said in the same inflectionless voice, "The next attempt at resistance will be met with lethal force. Where is Lafas?"

"Fap you!" the pill-roller shrieked, firing wildly at the armored man, as two other goons also opened fire. The shots simply bounced harmlessly off his armor, though, as he calmly swiveled around and fired three single rounds from his own weapon. All three of the would-be heroes fell dead, each with a neat ten-centimeter hole burned through the center of his chest.

Gandrayda ducked behind a table as the rest of the gang began shouting and running in all directions. The interloper had to be either a bounty hunter or an assassin, and if the first, then all her work would come to nothing.

"I will not ask again. Where is Lafas?"

The door to the back room slowly swung open. "M-M-me, I'm hi-hi-m. I'm L-Lafas," a squat little human stuttered, crawling out into the open. "D-D-Don't sh-shoot me."

The armored man raised a hand to the left side of his helmet, and something whirred within its workings. "I am detaining you and your remaining associates under the terms of fugitive contract number 04238. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say may be used against you at trial."

_Bounty hunter, then,_ Gandrayda thought. _And I was so close, too._

As unobtrusively as she could, she tried to retrieve the tiny recording device she'd planted under the table, but the armored hunter whipped around with preternatural speed, the colossal bore of his arm cannon trained directly on her head.

"Hold your fire," Gandrayda said far more calmly than she felt, reverting to her true form as she held her hands up in surrender. "I'm a fugitive recovery agent, Class B. ID number 9541307. I've been working undercover in pursuit of Mr. Lafas here."

"N-N-No way!" Lafas yelled. "A robot A-A-AND a sh-shapesh-shifter? Why me? Why me?!?"

The armored hunter looked at her for a long second, and Gandrayda shuddered just a bit as she realized that the man might not believe her story. Finally, just when she had begun to consider the odds of running for it, he lowered his arm. "Very well. I would appreciate your assistance."

Working together, the hunters rapidly handcuffed the drug dealer and his cronies. "Where to, GFP?" Gandrayda asked.

"Yes. I have a ground vehicle waiting outside. You may ride along if you like."

Owing to the late hour, the police station was deserted as they marched their captives inside. "Hi there," said the night-shift desk sergeant, a thin, balding human whose nametag read "P. Costello." "Can I help you with anything?"

"Lafas and known accomplices, contract number 04238, possession and distribution of restricted pharmaceuticals," the armored man said. "This individual also assisted in their capture."

"I was undercover trying to take them down before he showed up," Gandrayda added.

Sergeant Costello fiddled with his computer terminal for a moment before logging the contract completed. "Good deal. If you'll sign the log, I'll send them back to lockup."

Gandrayda reached for the scanner, but Costello shook his head. "Not you. Him."

"What?" the shapeshifter asked, confused and annoyed by the brusque dismissal.

"I hate to tell you this, miss, but the big guy gets the head credit," the sergeant said apologetically.

"Like hell it's his! I was there first!"

"Can you not allow me to transfer the credit to her?" the armored hunter added. "She deserves it more than I."

"Sorry, that works only if you're all the same class. You're a Class A, though, and she's only a B, so the credit's yours solo." With a shrug, the sergeant finished, "Now I know you helped, miss, and he can pay you separately if he wants, but it's not going to show up on your catch percentage."

Gandrayda flushed a brilliant shade of indigo. "Of all the rotten, unfair, double-dealing--"

"Don't look at me," Costello protested. "I don't make the laws, I just enforce 'em."

"I am sorry for your trouble," the armored hunter said tonelessly, palming the scanner left-handed as he spoke. "Please understand that I did not intend to steal your credit. As for the money, I will ensure that you are adequately compensated."

The two hunters stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Gandrayda's eyes met only the shimmering green of the armored man's visor, though, and not for the first time, she wondered what exactly lay behind it.

"I hope you choke on it," Gandrayda grumbled as he walked away.

* * *

Hours after leaving the police station, Gandrayda wandered the streets of New Pacifica aimlessly, still furious over the incident with Lafas and his gang. "Fappin' metallic bastard. I bet he really is a robot," she muttered to herself, causing a few passersby to quickly duck to the other side of the street. "They shouldn't even let that kind in the business. Taking perfectly good bounties away from the rest of us..." 

It wasn't the money that Gandrayda objected to losing. Her information on Lafas' drug distribution contacts would still be valuable to her corporate contractors, and a quick check of her credit holdings had shown that the armored hunter had indeed transferred a generous percentage of the bounty fee to her public account. Instead, it was the loss of the capture credit that rankled her. Within each class of license, the bounty hunters were ranked by capture percentage, with higher-ranked hunters able to bid on more lucrative contracts. Gandrayda had repeatedly tried to break into the A-class, but every time, other hunters' actions or sheer bad luck had forced her back to the lower ranks. With this setback, she'd be doomed to remain in Class B yet again.

Glancing at the street signs, she realized that although she'd made it back to her own neighborhood, she had no desire to go home and stew over her injustice. "To hell with it," she muttered, turning down one of the side streets and into Donovan's Pub and Grill. Only a few barflies remained at this hour, and the staff were cleaning up in preparation for the end of the night. "Vodka neat," she said sullenly to the barkeeper, slumping onto one of the stools. "Actually, you better make it a double."

Half an hour and three double vodkas later, the door chimed open as another patron walked in. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" a voice said behind her, and she smiled lopsidedly as she turned around to see a familiar figure in a battered leather flight jacket, T-shirt and jeans. "Sammy, welcome back!"

"Ma'am, last call is in ten minutes," the bartender warned her.

"That's okay, I only wanted a cup of coffee. Thank you, though."

"Put it 'n my bill, she's a friend," Gandrayda slurred. "Hell, better give me one too."

"Evidently you're either celebrating or commiserating," Samus commented, indicating the emptied glasses on the bar as she accepted a steaming cup from the bartender. "Do you want company, or shall I leave you to it?"

"No, sit down, it's cool," Gandrayda sighed. "Just had a crap day, is all. Work gone horribly wrong."

Samus tried and failed not to grimace as Gandrayda poured out her tale of a bounty hunter who had shown up on one of her assignments and stolen both her credit and most of her pay. "Oh, the bastard gave me half, but it was like it was nothing to him," she fumed. "Like it was gods-be-damned _charity_. 'I will ensure that you are adequately compensated,'" she said, imitating a synthetic voice while transforming into the usurping villain. "He can take his _compensation_ and shove it up his self-righteous metal..."

_I wonder if I could have _tried_ to make a more spectacular mess of this,_ Samus thought sickly as she stared at a perfect replica of her armor, seated rigidly on the adjacent bar stool. _Talk about no good deed going unpunished. __Heavens help me, what if she finds out that it's really me whose guts she's hating right now?_

"I think he was just trying to do the right thing," she said, and the sympathy in her voice and expression was not feigned at all. "From what you said, he would have had no way of knowing you were already working there, and he can't change the law."

"I know," Gandrayda said, resuming her own shape with a resigned sigh. "Just frosts my buns, that's all." With a shrug, she continued, "But enough of my whining. What brings you here?"

"Late night business," Samus replied. "I had to escort a high-dollar client and some of his colleagues from their offices to their new residence. Apparently they wanted high-level security - the place was locked up like a fortress, and they kept saying how half the galaxy was gunning for them and so forth."

"At this hour? Sammy, did you get yourself mixed up with mobsters or something?" Gandrayda queried.

Samus only shrugged. "Don't ask, don't tell. Anyway, I'm not staying for long. I just took a gig in the Spiral Sector, and my jump window's in three hours. I thought I'd grab a cup of java before heading to the spaceport, and here I am."

The shapeshifter looked at her for a long moment, and then began to chuckle. "You really are Sammy Stargazer, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You are, I know it. You're like a superhero or something. You always show up right when you're needed, save the day, and then you fly off into the stars again. Just like the Galaxy Squad. Fighting for honor, justice and a true peace in space."

Samus regarded Gandrayda skeptically, but despite the other woman's degree of intoxication, there was no insincerity in her declaration. Touched, she said, "That might just be the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me."

"Aw, you're a nice person, people should say nice things about you. So, is it true?"

"I'm not even a regular hero," she replied, looking down at her boots. "I defend people for money, that's all. Hero, hell - most days I'm not even sure about the nice person part."

"Oh." Gandrayda looked strangely dismayed at the statement. "Well, you're my hero anyway, so that's gotta count for somethin', huh?"

Samus took a sip of her coffee, more to cover her discomfiture than out of thirst. "Thank you," she finally said. "That means a lot to me."

Gandrayda just smiled, leaning against the hunter in a one-sided hug. "You're welcome. Just be careful out there, 'kay?"

Samus' only reply was a frozen nod, as her voice had deserted her. Physical contact that wasn't initiated in anger was a completely foreign concept to her.

"Closing time," the bartender interrupted.

"I'll get everything. Thanks for taking care of her." Samus handed over her credit chip and palm-printed the scanner before Gandrayda could interject. "Do you want me to take you home, or can you get there on your own?"

"No, I'm good," the shapeshifter said. "I don't live far. And you didn't have to do that."

With a sad smile, Samus replied, "Hey, what are friends for?"

* * *

Author's Note: Ouch. Poor Gandrayda, doomed to the short end of the stick – and by accident, no less. Meanwhile, Samus finds herself in the classic superhero's dilemma, despite all protests to the contrary. 

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	4. The Man With No Face

Chapter 4: The Man With No Face

* * *

"Vehicular manslaughter?!" the advocate cried, waving a set of arrest documents like a flag. "My client merely had a few drinks! It's not like he tried to kill someone!" 

"Heh, heh," the accused laughed - or rather rumbled, as very little that one could recognize as a laugh ever made it past his titanic Orion bulk. Even now, the reek of stale liquor rolled off him in waves. "Besides, does anyone really care if there's one less skirt on the streets?"

Sergeant Wiren looked from advocate to client, and couldn't decide which stellar example of sentient life would force him to vomit first. "Buddy, I'll care if there's one less of _you_ on the streets. You can go across the hall and see the court clerk for a trial date." The sergeant nearly threw the papers back across the desk. "Now you and Mr. Fun Times take a walk."

"I protest! This is clear abuse by an officer of the Galactic--"

The shyster's words died in his throat as a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder. "I believe the officer asked you to leave," a flat synthetic voice said.

"Who? What?" Blinded by the agony in his arm, the advocate tried to turn, but all he could see of his assailant was his metal-clad arm and torso.

"You are holding up the line," the armored figure said coldly. "And I dislike delays. Do I make myself clear?"

The advocate didn't need to be told twice; he and his client hustled out the door the second the hunter let him go.

"Anywhere else in the galaxy you'd be up for assault charges," Wiren muttered, but the appreciative glance he directed at the bounty hunter belied his words. "Got another one?"

"More than one. These are 771, 459, 488, 150 and their squad leader 725, and their frigate _Vol Faralam _is parked in your impound dock. All of them are wanted under the Interstellar Piracy Act."

The chain gang of captured Urtragians stared balefully at the desk sergeant, as though daring him to comment.

Five places back in the line, Gandrayda's ears perked up as she heard a familiar synthesized voice. The mysterious hunter she'd run afoul of a month before had returned. She frowned as she strained her ears to pick up the conversation.

"You probably know the drill, then," Wiren replied, reaching for yet another stack of forms. "I'll take them for now, and then you'll have to come back to swear out a warrant before a naval officer. That probably won't be till next week, though, on account of the holidays."

"I understand," the hunter said, filling out the paperwork as best he could one-handed. His calm acceptance of the wait surprised Wiren; he'd figured the hunter would be upset at having his pay delayed. "As long as these... individuals get their due punishment."

"I hear ya," the sergeant replied, although he sensed that more lay beneath the hunter's treatment of his captives than simple monetary gain. "We'll call you when they want your statement. Take it easy. Maybe hang around for the weekend."

"Thank you." And with that, the hunter was gone.

Some minutes later, Gandrayda reached the front of the line with her own petty crook in tow. She tried not to wince as she signed for the paltry bounty credit; it had cost her a bit more than that simply to find the head, let alone drag him in. Meanwhile, the armored hunter had once again, and seemingly with no effort, captured a set of bounties worth more than her yearly income. _If only I knew how that guy does it..._ she thought enviously.

An idea occurred to her, and she turned back to the desk. "Hey, Sarge," she said, leaning provocatively across the surface. "I'm just dying to know. Who's the big guy that keeps bringing in all the good bounty heads?"

"I don't have time for chitchat, Gandrayda, I'm up to my ass in reports," Wiren groused.

"Aw, that's no way to talk to a lady," Gandrayda pouted. "Come on, you know who I'm talking about. Yellow armor, big gun, funny voice... what's his story?"

"His _story?_ Right, like I have nothing better to do with my time than listen to bounty hunters' life stories. As far as I know, he's a name and a registry number, got it? I don't know anything else, and I don't want to know anything else. Now beat it."

"I will if you'll give me his name." The shapeshifter shimmied a little closer, giving Wiren an even better view of her cleavage. "Pretty please?"

"Oh, for the love of--" The desk sergeant sighed, looked up to meet her eyes. "Sam something. Samuel, Samson... no, Samus. That's it. Samus Aran."

"See, that wasn't so hard," Gandrayda cooed. "Thanks, Sarge. Don't work too hard on those reports, okay?"

"Whatever, next please," Wiren called out to the crowd as Gandrayda sashayed out of the building.

As she walked down the steps and out to the street, Gandrayda's mind spun as she tried to figure out the armored bounty hunter's identity. Realistically, she wasn't much closer than she had been before, but at least now she had a name to match with the armor. "Samus Aran," the police sergeant had said. It was a fairly unusual name as far as personal names went; certainly it wasn't one she had ever heard before.

"You might be a big-shot hunter," she whispered to herself. "But let's see what happens when someone hunts you."

* * *

The New Pacifica Public Library didn't look like much from the outside, housed in a featureless gray concrete building a few blocks from the city center. However, within its walls rested a treasure beyond price: instant access to all the data centers that comprised the galactic information network, available free of charge to any citizen. It formed an ideal first stop for anyone in need of cheap, reliable information, which was exactly what had brought Gandrayda there. 

For this "mission," as she'd come to think of her pursuit of the armored hunter, she had assumed the form of a teen-aged, slightly overweight human female, with mousy brown hair and eyes to match. The cheap, deeply unfashionable outfit she'd chosen hung from her frame in all the wrong places, and a pair of glasses and a backpack completed the ensemble. To all who looked at her, she was just another student - nameless, faceless, utterly forgettable. Smiling faintly, she walked up the front ramp and into the building, heading for the main reference room.

A palm-print later, Gandrayda sat in front of one of the public computer terminals, armed with thirty minutes of network time and a few questions she wanted answered. Opening a link to the Federation Ministry of Justice, she selected "Licenses and Registrations" from the menu and typed in her query. A single entry came up in response to her search, and the screen cleared to display the information contained within.

_**Galactic Federation Police License Query System  
1: Aran, Samus \ 8.6.2000 \ 486719544  
Species: Not given \ Sex: Not given \ Hair/Eyes: Not given  
Height: Not given \ Weight: Not given \ Photo unavailable  
Place of residence: Post Drop 113842, Dirian, Baloth Sector**_

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Licensure history: 4 records available  
-Pilot, large craft/commercial, #A770161399615; expires 8.6.2025  
--2 demerits: Failure to file flight plan, Ursae Sector, 6.20.2018  
-Concealed weapon carry; expires 1.1.2022  
-Destructive devices, own and use; expires 1.1.2021  
-Fugitive recovery agent, Class A, #13576; expires 12.30.2020**_

_**Vehicle registrations: 1  
HSMBS115321PW5610 "Defender" Sigma-class armed transport  
FTL-capable: Yes \ Atmosphere-capable: Yes \ Engines: 2  
Color: FF0033,FFCC00 \ Armament: Not given**_

Gandrayda swore silently – the registry hadn't told her much of anything, and she couldn't fathom how any sentient being could get past the almighty requirements of the Ministry of Justice bureaucrats. She backed out, selected "Vital Records," and then "Search By Name." A few clicks told the computer exactly what she was looking for, and a second later, the results scrolled across her screen.

_**GF Ministry of Public Health – Department of Vital Records  
Database last updated: 7.10.2020 15:36:42  
Search term: sn:Aran pn:S dob:1.1.1995,7.10.2015  
Search returned 457 records. Records 1-10 shown.**_

_**1: Aran, Sabrina \ 10.10.2014 \ Groombridge 1618 \ 607115340  
2: Aran, Sacha \ 5.30.1997 \ Thorn IV \ 289237434  
3: Aran, Saida \ 1.2.2001 \ Kenai Station \ 119502342  
4: Aran, Sakura \ 4.7.2016 \ Earth \ 151751375  
5: Aran, Samantha \ 9.1.2014 \ Tau Ceti IV \ 763954830  
6: Aran, Samuel \ 4.15.2009 \ Betelgeuse Station \ 289530103  
7: Aran, Samuel \ 7.22.2002 \ Alpha Centauri III \ 522718910  
8: Aran, Samus \ 8.6.2000 \ K-2L \ 486719544  
9: Aran, Sander \ 10.22.2007 \ Weyard \ 327872827  
10: Aran, Sarah \ 2.24.2011 \ Earth \ 932436572**_

_**First \ Previous 10 \ Next 10 \ Last \ Refine Search \ Quit**_

_Gotcha!_ she thought, selecting record 8 from the list. To her frustration, though, an error box popped up instead of the information she wanted.

_**ERROR: Record unavailable. Code 1145.**_

"Excuse me," she said, waving to a nearby librarian. "I'm having some trouble with the computer. It keeps giving me this weird error."

"Oh, that happens all the time," the librarian replied with a friendly smile. "I'll just take a-- oh. Oh, I see."

Gandrayda frowned at the Carolian woman's sudden change of tone. "Something wrong?"

"Well, this error code, see? 1145 means that the records were destroyed or unrecoverable. Usually it's because of some kind of disaster, a flood or an earthquake. And no wonder, look at this." She pointed to the "Location" column. "I don't think you're going to find anyone from there, miss."

"Why? Did something happen on K-2L?"

The librarian peered sharply at her for a second, but then smiled sympathetically. "You'd be too young to remember, wouldn't you. The whole colony was raided by Space Pirates. Every man, woman and child died in the space of a few hours. When the rescue crews got there, they found nothing but rubble and ashes. That was almost twenty years ago, now, and I'm not sure anybody has ever tried to rebuild it."

"Oh no! That's awful." Gandrayda put on a suitably appalled expression to match her tone. "No one survived, you said?"

"Not a single soul," the librarian confirmed. Another patron called out for assistance just then, and she straightened from the terminal. "Anyway, I hope you find what you're looking for. Please don't hesitate to ask if you have any other questions."

"Thank you," Gandrayda said, but her attention was still fixed on the blinking lines on the screen.

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, Gandrayda's indulging in a bit of cyber-stalking... 

Samus' date of birth comes from the initial release date of _Metroid_ (August 6, 1986 in Japan). The ship in the GF file is the ship she had in_ Zero Mission_. Since it doesn't resemble any of her other gunships, I gave it its own class rating. And as seen from her license records, even the galaxy's greatest bounty hunter can run afoul of the traffic patrol. ;-)

As always, thank you for reading.


	5. Echoes of the Past

Chapter 5: Echoes of the Past

* * *

Back at Donovan's that weekend, Gandrayda sat at the bar with a glass of her favorite cocktail, ostensibly enjoying the music of the live band that was performing on the small corner stage, but in actuality searching the crowd for a familiar face. Once again, her thoughts turned to the mysterious private security agent she'd seen here so many times, who now haunted her dreams – and, if she cared to admit it, most of her waking thoughts as well. 

Gandrayda already recognized that she found Sammy physically attractive; the shapeshifter had never had any hangups about who she loved or how, and with her figure and looks, there were hardly any ideals of beauty in which the blonde wouldn't rank highly. However, she hadn't banked on being just as deeply attracted to the other woman's personality. By turns she was supremely confident and endearingly uncertain, quiet where Gandrayda was boisterous, self-effacing where she would have bragged from the rooftops. Even more intriguing, Gandrayda could never quite shake the feeling that she was hiding some deep secret, something that no one else in the galaxy might be privy to.

_By the gods, what I wouldn't give to know what you're hiding..._

Pushing thoughts of the mysterious blonde from her mind, she took a sip of her drink. Scribbled on the bar napkin were a series of one-line thoughts and avenues of inquiry, as she plotted her next moves in her quest to identify the armored bounty hunter.

_**-Who made that armor suit? Check w/ local weapon smiths & tech shops. Has to get it fixed somewhere.  
-"Samus" - very uncommon name. Ethnic? Family heritage? Look for others w/ same.  
-Call GF licensure dept. Someone has to have seen SA's face at some point. Can't get a hunter license w/o at least a description.  
-Birth cert says from K-2L, but was destroyed in SP attack "almost 20 yrs ago." SA would have been little kid then if DOB is legit.  
--Is he even from there? Could be identity theft. In which case good luck.  
--Find other ppl who lived there before attack. Maybe one of them remembers him.  
---Are there groups for SP attack survivors? Might find K-2L people there.**_

"Looks like serious work," another patron said, sidling up to Gandrayda where she sat at the bar.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to keep you captive for life," the shapeshifter replied with a roguish wink, sizing up the newcomer as she spoke. Like the private security agent, she was tall and lithe, but her eyes were bright green, and she wore her blonde hair pinned back instead of loose.

_Close enough,_ Gandrayda thought, signaling to the bartender. "Get my friend here another of whatever she's having?"

* * *

The next morning, Gandrayda headed across town to the tiny offices that housed the Galactic Anti-Piracy League. Disguised yet again, this time in the eclectic dress of the artisans that frequented her neighborhood, she walked into the office and tapped on the desk to get the receptionist's attention.

"Can I help you?" the matronly woman said, looking up from her gossip magazine.

"Yes, actually," Gandrayda replied, producing a business card from one of the local tabloids. It was a forgery, of course, but the receptionist would have no way of ascertaining that. "I'm a freelance writer, and I'm doing a series of pieces on Space Pirates in the modern era. I was hoping you could provide me with some information. One of the centerpieces of my article is the raid on K-2L, and..."

"There have been a lot of ugly Pirate attacks, but that was one of the ugliest," the receptionist interrupted, heaving her considerable bulk out of her chair and waddling over to a filing computer. "Seven hundred and thirty-eight people wiped off the face of the universe in less than two hours. Men, women, babies, the elderly. Even people's pet animals. The Pirates killed every last living creature. And they didn't even take anything of value – they just killed for the fun of killing. That was one of the rallying cries we used to get the Interstellar Piracy Act passed. People have the right to live without being afraid that those murdering thieves are going to drop out of the skies."

"You're absolutely right," Gandrayda agreed, even as she wished that the woman would shut up and give her the information. "I know there were no survivors, but I'm hoping to find relatives of the victims or even people who lived there but moved away. Do you think you might have anything like that?"

"Sure do," the receptionist said. "Families of K-2L victims are some of our best donors. Most of the colonists sent their money offworld, you see." After poking around in her files for a few minutes, she produced a list from the hard-copy machine. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And please take some of our brochures, we'd love to have you as a volunteer."

_Fat chance of that,_ Gandrayda thought, but she smiled politely and thanked the woman anyway.

Once on the crosstown transport, she began thumbing through the donor list. Of the three hundred or so names on the list, forty of them lived in New Pacifica, and another dozen in the outlying suburbs. With any luck at all, one of them would be able to tell her something.

* * *

Two days later, she had had no luck at all. All thirty-six of the people she had talked to - the remaining four had either died or moved away - had never heard of anyone named Samus, nor of any Aran family, nor did they recall ever hearing of a K-2L boy who might have had a knack for hunting things. 

Having exhausted all the names on her list that lived within New Pacifica proper, Gandrayda rented a ground vehicle and headed out of the city. The pensioner whose name appeared three-quarters of the way down her list lived in a residential nursing facility well out in the suburbs, and Gandrayda never would have found the place if not for the vehicle's navigation system. "What is it with all these old folks' homes being in the back end of nowhere," she muttered to herself as the vehicle drove itself into Shady Meadows' parking lot. "Old or not, I'd still want to be in the middle of the action."

A second later, back in her writer's form, she waved cheerfully to one of the caretakers. "Yoo-hoo! I'm here to visit Gerald Jonas, do you have any idea where he might be hiding?"

"Jonas?" The college student, glad for an excuse to leave the senile patient he'd been trying unsuccessfully to engage in a craft project, pulled a notepad from his pocket and consulted the device's screen for a moment. "He's in 224 North. Down that hallway, take a left at the T and then third on your right."

"Thanks ever so much!" Gandrayda replied, with a sunny smile.

A few moments' walk later, she stopped outside the door to one of the building's assisted-living apartments, and rang the bell. Several seconds passed, and she debated ringing the bell again before the door clicked open. The man's appearance threw Gandrayda momentarily off balance - from the age listed on the GAPL's donor sheet, she'd been expecting a fairly vigorous if older individual, not the wizened, broken man that hunched in the open doorway.

"Hi there, sir. Are you Mr. Jonas, by chance?"

"Oh, yes, hello," the man said in a quavering voice. "Are you one of the library ladies?"

"No, Mr. Jonas, I'm actually a writer," Gandrayda replied. "Do you mind if I talk to you for a little while?"

"A writer? Oh, I'm not sure I could be much help to you, but please do come in. I don't get many visitors since my son moved away."

"Well, I'd be happy to stay and talk to you," Gandrayda said as she stepped into the apartment, and the old man's face lit up as he indicated the armchair in the center of the small living room. "Please, sit down. Might I offer you a cup of tea? I'm not sure if you would find this old fossil's stories to be anything worth listening to, but..."

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she said, but Mr. Jonas had already busied himself with the tea kettle. "I'm sure my manners are abominably rusty from living here. You must think I'm barely a step from the recycling plant. I'm a lot younger than I look, though. After fifty years of being a mining engineer I don't clean up that well any more, but I'm still fitter than any of the young things they have looking after us. Do you take milk or sugar in this? I tell you, if I'd known what kind of people they send to these places, I would never have left the city, but I broke my hip a year ago and my son made me give up my own apartment. I was managing just fine on my own, the doctors gave me a new hip and I still have my wits about me, but he got that job with the computers on that new Albarino Station they're building out by Sigma Draconis, and it was off to the scrap heap with me..."

Gandrayda nodded politely, only half-listening as the old man continued to prattle about life in the nursing home, the infirmities of his neighbors and the juicier bits of senior citizen gossip. Once he'd finally run himself out of talk, she leaned forward with her cup of tea, smiling as she began to pitch her story.

"You see, I'm doing some research for a series of articles I'm writing. It's about famous Space Pirate raids, and of course, I wanted to write about the raid on K-2L. I'd heard you used to work there, and I had hoped that I could interview you for background information. What was the colony like back then, and so forth."

"K-2L?" Mr. Jonas echoed, his eyes taking on a misty glaze. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in years. Beautiful place, it was, before the bugs came."

"I'm sure. It's been really hard finding people who remember it, so I'm so glad I found you." _Flattery gets you everywhere,_ the shapeshifter thought as she pulled a recording device from her purse. "What did they do there?"

"It was a mining world. Afloraltite crystals, mostly." Off Gandrayda's confused look, he clarified, "Reactor fuel for the old-time warp drive systems. Nobody uses that technology anymore, though, it's all that gooey stuff now. Anyway, afloraltite was a big deal back then, so everybody who wanted to make a quick credit struck out for the frontiers. Find a good lode and you were set for as many lifetimes as you wanted to buy."

"So how did you get involved?" Gandrayda asked.

"I was a shift foreman at the main mine, and my wife worked in the general store. Here." He stood and shuffled over to the end table, removing a faded photograph from it. In the image, scores of smiling people stood in front of a large marquee, behind which could be seen an enormous greenish-blue crystal. "This was a year before the... before it happened. We'd just dug out that big crystal in the background - it was the biggest single afloraltite crystal ever found, enough to power a small navy. That's me, and this is Ken Fukuda, and that's some corporate big shot. Over here's Terry Braunwald, Joe Ferris, Rod Aran and--"

"Who?"

"Roderick Aran," the man repeated. "He was the mine supervisor. My boss's boss."

"What a coincidence, I have a colleague with the same last name," Gandrayda said. It was close enough to the truth. "I wonder if they're any relation."

"Oh, I doubt it," Mr. Jonas replied, shaking his head. "Rod didn't have any living family by then. I think his wife did, but then they'd be a different name, wouldn't they. No, it was just them..."

"They didn't have any children, then? A son, perhaps?"

"Son? No, they had a daughter." He pointed to another area of the picture, where a smiling young woman stood with a toddler in her arms. Gandrayda fought not to cry out in surprise as she recognized the woman's face, and it was not hard at all to see the same features in the child's. "Oh, but that little girl was his pride and joy. Always running around, tagging after him on the job. Took after her mother in looks, thank heavens, but in personality she was Daddy's girl all the way. I wish I could remember her name, now. Funny name, it was - not really a girl's name. Sam something..."

As quickly as she could, Gandrayda excused herself and made to leave. "Thanks for everything, sir," she said as she gathered up her recorder. "It's been so helpful talking to you."

_Gandrayda, you idiot, you thrice-cursed idiot,_ she thought as she departed the nursing home. _You've been looking for the wrong _man _all along._

* * *

Author's Notes: Cue dramatic music. Took Gandrayda long enough to figure it out, though. :-) 

Some of you have expressed concerns that Samus might be out of character, particularly as regards her nascent friendship with Gandrayda. There is a method to the madness, and it looks something like this:

- Samus is just shy of her 20th birthday at this point in story time, and has gone with no interruptions from the Chozo colony on Zebes to the GF military to bounty hunting. All of those are extremely regimented environments, and none of them are particularly hospitable to someone who is still trying to figure out exactly where she fits in human society. Moreover, the few people she has dealt with on any extended basis have all fallen into one of three categories: enemies (bounty heads), neutrals (GFN/GFMC servicepeople, other hunters) or parental figures (Old Bird, Grey Voice, Adam Malkovich). Thus, she has no idea how to handle most social interactions; all she knows is that going out, having friends, etc. is what "normal" people do. When someone like Gandrayda shows interest in her as a friend (or not - see below), she's not apt to be able to recognize where the other person's intentions might lie.

- In the scene where Samus accidentally encroaches on one of Gandrayda's bounties, she's stuck with what I earlier described as the "superhero's dilemma" - a situation in which the superhero has to do something against someone that he/she knows in his/her non-superhero persona, but has no way of explaining or amending his/her actions without revealing his/her true identity. (For illustration, see Peter Parker's interactions with Harry Osborn in _Spider-Man_ - Spider-Man is forced to kill the Green Goblin, thus leading Harry to believe that Spider-Man murdered his father, but Peter can't explain the truth of the matter to Harry because in doing so he would reveal himself as Spider-Man and Norman Osborn as the Green Goblin.) In this case, Samus realizes that her actions in armor are going to negatively affect someone she knows out of it, which doesn't sit well with her at all - the Chozo made it very clear that she's supposed to defend people, not cheat them out of what's rightfully theirs. However, she can't offer a proper apology because that would entail admitting to Gandrayda who she is and what she really does for a living. Thus, she tries to make amends as best she can by giving up part of the bounty fee. She still feels rotten about it, however, especially when she returns to Donovan's in her non-armored form and finds out that her attempt at doing the right thing only made the situation worse.

- Finally, in practically all of their interactions, Gandrayda is actively trying to seduce her - and since her entire exposure to human sexual behavior at this point has come from boot camp disease-prevention education and male squadmates' sexual bragging, Samus has no idea what Gandrayda is really after. (You see the same naivete in Chapter 2, when armored Samus brushes off the prostitute outside the Federal Building - she misinterprets "show a guy a good time" as an invitation to entertainment, not sex.) Yes, she's walking straight into it, but it's because she doesn't know the trap is there.

I can't say much more without giving away a good chunk of the ending, but events in the next few chapters will go a very long way toward building the character traits that Samus displays by the time of _Metroid/Zero Mission._

The depiction of the K-2L colony's operations and the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Aran are all from the manga. Amusingly, the manga also seems to indicate that blowing up Space Pirates is a family trait. "That gooey stuff" is fuel gel, which had apparently completely replaced afloraltite as starship fuel by the events of MP3. (Interestingly, though, the afloraltite cylinders shown in the manga look exactly like MP3's energy cells. Similar technology, perhaps?)

Thanks to all of you who wrote comments, and thank you for reading.


	6. The Tangled Web We Weave

Chapter 6: The Tangled Web We Weave

Caution: This chapter makes reference to acts between consenting same-sex adults. Nothing explicit is shown, but if such things bother you, you may want to stop reading at about the 3/4 mark.

* * *

"Sir, I... well, um... sir, you can't go armed in a government building," the police guard said as he stood outside the security checkpoint of New Pacifica's Federal courthouse. "Isn't there any way you can... well, you know, not be wearing all that?" 

"No," the armored bounty hunter said flatly.

"Well, can you just take the gun off?"

"No."

The guard, who had already begun to sweat underneath his suddenly too-tight dress uniform, wiped nervously at his forehead. He could lose his job for allowing a weapon into the sterile area of the courthouse, but the man in the golden armor posed an even greater, not to mention more immediate threat. "Look, I don't want to be a jerk, but I can't let you in with a working weapon... can you disable it, maybe?"

The hunter considered that for a moment, and then tapped a series of commands into a cleverly hidden control panel in the cannon's side. "You may take the control module," he said, removing a small optical chip from within the panel recess and handing it to the guard. "The cannon cannot be fired without it."

"Thanks, go ahead," the guard replied, but before he could wave the hunter through, a mechanical left hand clamped hard over his own that held the device. "That is a sensitive piece of circuitry. It will not react well to tampering. Neither will I."

The guard only retained control of his bodily functions by a supreme act of will. "Uh, wouldn't dream of it," he said vigorously, but the words had no sooner left his mouth than the hunter was gone, only the thud of armored boots on marble indicating the direction of his departure.

A moment's walk took the hunter to a small office on the main floor, and he knocked twice on the doorframe before entering. "Is there a judge advocate on duty here?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said the office clerk, a young woman wearing the chevrons of a petty officer second class. "If you'll just wait a moment I'll page him for you. May I ask what this is in reference to?"

"I recently brought in a half dozen Space Pirates, and I need a warrant to present them before the court and claim my capture credit. The relevant documentation is on file at the police station in the Annex."

"That's fine, we can get that for you before close of business. And your name?"

"Samus Aran."

The PO2 tapped the information into her computer. "Lieutenant Cartledge should be here any moment. Have a seat if you like."

Predictably, the bounty hunter remained standing.

A few minutes later, an athletic young man in a naval officer's uniform strode into the office. "Hello there, Mr. Aran," he said. "I'm Lieutenant Cartledge, GFN JAG. My yeoman told me you have a piracy warrant you need sworn out?"

"That is correct," the bounty hunter replied, extending his left hand in response to the officer's attempted handshake. Cartledge blinked at that, but to his credit switched hands with only a moment's hesitancy. "I brought copies of the logs from my ship's sensors and my helmet camera. I hope that will be sufficient."

"More than sufficient. I wish half the hunters I get in here were as well prepared."

Swearing out the warrant only took a few moments, as the JAG officer simply reviewed the footage and examined it for signs of alteration. "That's it," Cartledge replied, printing off a hard copy of the indictment and affixing a seal to the document. "Let's go across the hall and serve this, and you can be on your way. You staying around for the Fifteenth?"

"No," the armored hunter said.

"Oh. Too bad, the fireworks show's supposed to be spectacular this year."

As they exited the office and joined the line for the admiralty docket, a nondescript-looking man in the garb of an advocate watched their progress. A moment later, he walked out of the courthouse with a satisfied smile.

* * *

_Good heavens, what do I have to do to get a meal in this city?_ Samus thought, narrowly avoiding being drenched in someone else's beer as the throng of people repelled her from the bar for the fourth time. Owing to the upcoming Unification Day festivities, Donovan's was jammed to overflowing, as was every other restaurant, bar and nightclub in New Pacifica. A crowd of half this size normally would have sent her packing, but the other six places she'd tried previously had all been as full or more so, and the prospect of eating a prepackaged meal aboard her ship appealed even less. 

"Sammy! Hey, Sammy! I thought that was you!"

Samus glanced around at the call, and spotted a familiar purple face weaving through the revelers. "Oh, hello!"

"I just got here, do you believe this place?" Gandrayda shouted over the crowd noise, grinning as she approached. "You been here long?"

"No, just came in to get something to eat," Samus yelled back. "Bad idea, huh?"

"You're not kidding, this is nuts. Let's get out of here."

"Where to?"

"How about my place?"

Warning bells rang in a distant part of her mind. She didn't go anyplace that wasn't at least semi-public, and she absolutely didn't go anywhere with people she didn't know - both of those were great ways to wind up kidnapped or dead. Then again, she couldn't live a hermit's existence forever, and if the Chozo had taught her anything, it was how to take care of herself in a bad situation. "Sounds great. Let me just pay for this." As before, she handled the palm scanner left-handed, and Gandrayda smiled at the unusual mannerism.

"Let's go. I live just a few blocks from here."

Owing to the warm summer night, they walked the short distance to Gandrayda's apartment, which was located in a fairly pleasant, if rather bohemian neighborhood. "Nice place you have here," Samus commented as Gandrayda let them both in the front door. "Did you decorate this yourself?"

Gandrayda blushed a deeper shade of violet at the compliment. "Um, yes, actually. There's no real theme to it, just whatever I thought would look good... anyway, thank you." Walking to the small kitchenette, she asked, "I thought we'd order takeout. Mulholland's is all I have for beer, is that okay with you?"

Samus blinked at that - the famous ale was a bit more than she would have purchased for her own consumption - but she only smiled politely in reply. "That's great, thanks."

"So, what brings you back to this world? On the job, or here for the Fifteenth?" Gandrayda asked once she returned with their drinks.

"A little of both, actually. I closed a fairly large business deal this afternoon, so I'm in something of a celebratory mood."

Gandrayda snickered at that. "Good one, Sammy." She paused, and her tone took on a hint of grievance. "You know, you could have told me what you really do for a living."

Samus frowned in reply, confused and more than a little concerned. "What? I told you: private security--" she started to say, but Gandrayda cut her off.

"Which is a nice-sounding fib that really means a hired gun... or a bounty hunter. You're Samus Aran, aren't you? As in, Class A fugitive agent? Went from total newbie to top 50 in less than three years? Never seen out of that fabulous armor suit? Who everyone thinks is either a man or a robot? Tell me I'm wrong."

Samus nearly dropped her beer bottle at those words, and nausea roiled in her stomach as she realized that she'd been well and truly caught. Any denial she offered now would be instantly dismantled, and without her armor or even a backup weapon, she would have no way of fighting her way out if Gandrayda decided to act on her newfound knowledge. She couldn't even arrange a convenient domestic accident to stop Gandrayda from talking - she would have no way of explaining how her trace evidence came to be at the crime scene, and she had no idea if or to whom the shapeshifter might have revealed the secret already. Even as she contemplated the other woman's death, though, Samus had to offer her credit for figuring out her deception at all, let alone doing it so quickly. In just over a month, Gandrayda had deduced something that no one except for a handful of Chozo knew, a secret that had remained inviolate for three years in the public eye.

"You weren't joking about being a spy, were you." Taking a long swallow of her beer, she replied, "I am as you said." _And heavens help me, I may well have just signed my own death warrant,_ her subconscious finished.

Gandrayda smiled affectionately at the look of fear the hunter was trying so strenuously to conceal. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I hunt heads too, remember? It's tough enough without everyone busting on you for being a girl."

"But you have a day job. Why chase bounties?"

"Sometimes for mad money, sometimes just to see if I can do it. Your guy Lafas, for example. I spent three weeks posing as one of his foot soldiers, trying to get enough evidence to take him down. And then you hacked his information systems, waltzed right in and walked out with the kingpin in handcuffs. I didn't know whether to hate you or bow down in admiration. Of course, the whole rank thing at the police station didn't help matters either."

Samus winced as she remembered the ugly incident. "You have no idea how awful I felt about that. And then in the bar that night, listening to you tell your side of the story, I about wanted to ball up in a hole and die."

"I wished you would – or at least, I wished the armored guy would," Gandrayda replied. "Probably a good thing I didn't know who you were back then, or I would have kicked your tail."

"And I probably would have let you. In any case, it wasn't as easy as you think," the hunter said, with a faint smile. "I just happen to have slightly better tools than most."

"Understatement of the galactic cycle," Gandrayda laughed. "Seriously, where'd you get that armor suit? I mean, not even the Wotans have anything that advanced."

"It was a gift from my grandfather," Samus replied, smiling with pride. "He was quite the engineer in his youth, and taught me everything he knew about mechanical stuff, computer hardware and so on. Anyway, he made it for me when I turned fourteen. Allegedly it has some Chozo technology built into it, but who knows."

Gandrayda chuckled at that. "I think your grandpa might have told you a tall tale there. The Chozo have been dead for ages," she said. "Whoever's tech it is, though, it's beyond amazing."

Samus just continued to smile, finishing the last of her beer. _You have no idea,_ she thought.

"I have to ask you a question, and please be honest," she said a moment later. "How did you figure it out?"

"What, your secret identity? Promise you won't laugh." Gandrayda grinned as she refilled their drinks. "I asked the desk sergeant who the big guy in the armor was. You do have an unusual name."

Samus snorted at that. "Not exactly Jane Anygirl, eh?"

"You said it, I didn't. From there, I tried a vital records search, but that pretty much came up blank. So, I started looking for information on K-2L, and I stumbled across a picture of the old mining colony. You look exactly like your mom, you know that?"

"Actually, I didn't." Samus fell silent for a long moment, staring into her bottle. "I don't remember much of them. I was only three when..."

Gandrayda said nothing, simply placing her own hand over the hunter's and squeezing lightly. Samus tried to ignore the warmth that spread up her arm at the sympathetic gesture.

"Anyway, you were saying?"

"So, once I found that picture and I realized that it really was you, I just waited for you to show up again. Sure enough, the same day Samus the bounty hunter comes in with a gang of Space Pirates, that night Sam the private security agent is back at Donovan's. The kicker was when I watched you signing your tabs at the bar. You're right-handed, but you always sign with your left. I didn't put that together until I realized that your armor doesn't have a right hand."

"You know, you're the first person who's actually noticed that," Samus noted.

"Hey, they pay me to be observant," the shapeshifter replied with a grin. "And speaking of observing, did you notice the new bartender they had tonight? I'd take a piece of that any day."

"A piece? Is there a reason you wouldn't want the entire individual?" Samus asked, and her confusion only grew as Gandrayda nearly aspirated her drink, laughing until tears sprang from her eyes. "Did I say something funny?"

"It's a rather dirty joke," the shapeshifter explained, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "It means... oh, never mind. Gods, how did you get this far in life and still be so naive?"

"I don't get out much," Samus replied guilelessly, which only made Gandrayda laugh harder. "Sammy, you are a trip," she wheezed. "My, you're an easy target after a beer or two."

"Oh, so you set me up to make fun of me," Samus said dryly. "Nice thing to do to a guest."

"Guilty as charged. Are you going to haul me in now?"

"Not unless there's a price on your head."

"Touché. So, back to the subject of bar-tending hotties. Do you have anyone special?"

Samus shook her head no. "Relationships don't exactly come with the job." Spinning her bottle absently about its base, she continued quietly, "No time... no interest..."

"Nice try, Sammy. Tell me another one." Pause. "Don't you get lonely?"

"I..." Her words died out as Gandrayda's fingertips traced the line of her jaw, barely skimming the sensitive flesh. Sensing no resistance, the shapeshifter leaned in close, hesitating for several seconds before closing that final distance, their lips meeting in a slow, tentative kiss. _How can anything be so soft,_ she thought as the kiss went on, becoming more and more heated until their need for air finally forced them apart.

"You're even better than I imagined," Gandrayda murmured throatily, tracing the contours of her spine through the form-fitting T-shirt she wore. "Shall we dance?"

Confounded by the naked arousal in the other woman's eyes and the matching desire rising within, Samus fumbled for a coherent response, unsure of whether to proceed or even how. "This isn't... I mean, I'm..."

"It's all right," the shapeshifter whispered, mere inches separating their bodies. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do. As for the rest..." She paused, licking her lips. "I can be anyone you want. Anything you desire..."

Looking into Gandrayda's eyes, she made her decision.

"Be yourself. I don't want 'anyone.' I want you."

* * *

Moonlight filtered through the blinds and into the bedroom, tinting the room in shades of black and silver. Oblivious to the view, Gandrayda slept peacefully, the light washing over her nude figure as she curled closer to the equally unclothed form of her lover. 

Samus lay awake, staring at the play of shadows on the ceiling.

_This was a stupendously bad idea,_ the voice at the back of her mind shrieked. _You couldn't be more vulnerable if you tried right now. Unarmed, naked, and in a strange bedroom in a city you barely know. And worse yet, your lover – and let's not even think about how dumb _that _was – knows who you are. Even if she doesn't sell you to the first up and comer, she's now a target for anyone who might be gunning for you. You put her in danger, you put yourself in danger, and for what?_

Well, her body answered that one. She couldn't remember ever having felt this good before. Memories of the night's activities flickered through her mind, and she smiled even as the old fear continued to circle and howl inside her head.

_You better hope it was worth it,_ that shrill voice replied_. Because your odds of getting out of here alive are approaching zero rapidly. _

Carefully slipping out of Gandrayda's embrace and out of the bed, Samus walked over to the open window, hoping that a bit of fresh air would calm her frenetic mind. Outside, the streets still pulsed with partygoers, but they hardly drew a moment of her attention. Instead, she looked up at the stars, picking out the unfamiliar constellations in New Pacifica's night sky. The old childhood habit had never failed to calm her, and it worked just as well as ever tonight. Suppressing a yawn, she turned away from the window, intending to go back to sleep.

As she walked back toward the bed, a gust of wind blew through the window, scattering papers from the desk to the floor. Automatically, Samus leaned down to pick some of the papers up, and glanced at the top sheet as she made to return the stack to the desktop. The sheet contained part of a list, names and residences that somehow sounded vaguely familiar, and intrigued, she began to sort through the rest of the pile.

A donor list from the Galactic Anti-Piracy League, all surviving family or former residents of her homeworld. A bar napkin with her name and a series of lines of investigation written upon it. Images and diagrams of her armor. Court schedules and spaceport arrival and departure records, all with her name highlighted. An old photograph, dusty and faded but clearly showing that marquee they always used to build just outside the city park - and oh heavens, those were Papa and Mama standing there, which meant that the baby had to be _her_ -

Gandrayda couldn't simply have stumbled across all this information - the shapeshifter had been stalking her, _hunting_ her.

Somewhere in her mind, she wondered if she was overreacting, but adrenaline was already flooding into her bloodstream, overriding her rational faculties. Her eyes darted from corner to corner, and suddenly the room was too small, the air held no oxygen, her drinks had been poisoned, there was a sniper peering through the window, the arm thrown across the bedspread held a knife, a gun--

_Run. Take the evidence, get out of here and never look back._

Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, she dressed, swept up the papers and made her way to the door. The hinges creaked just a bit as she eased it open, but Gandrayda remained blissfully asleep as she ducked out and closed it behind her. She broke into a sprint as soon as she reached the street, not stopping until she reached the spaceport, and that same frantic speed carried her aboard her ship and through the emergency take-off checklists. The radio howled Astro Control's displeasure at her for breaking departure procedure, but she didn't care - she only needed to put as much distance between herself and the planet as possible.

Once the _Defender_ made the jump to hyperspace, she headed straight for the shower, turning the water hot enough to leave angry pink tracks across her skin and scrubbing until the soap had worn down to a useless sliver.

_What have I done? Oh heavens, what have I done?_ she thought, leaning against the composite material of the shower stall, shaking with fear and self-loathing. _Old Bird, help me... _

Even as she thought the invocation, though, she berated herself for her weakness. All the people she might have confided in were dead, and none of them would have helped her even if they had lived. Although her Chozo family had never denied her care when she truly needed it, they had always stressed self-reliance as the signature quality of a true Defender, and Adam simply would have told her that a real soldier would never let something as stupid as a mistake stand between herself and completing a mission.

_All right, so the primary mission is to save your own life; the secondary mission is information control. Get dressed, sit down and think it out._

If Samus prided herself on one skill, it was her ability to plan out a mission. Five minutes later, dressed in her heaviest sweatshirt and pants, she sat in the _Defender's_ equipment bay with a cup of herbal tea and reviewed her situation.

On the whole, the breach could have been considerably worse. By her own admission, Gandrayda hadn't told anyone yet about Samus' other identity. All the evidence was circumstantial, and even in her panic-induced flight, she had managed to take everything from the apartment that could possibly corroborate Gandrayda's theory. With no proof, the shapeshifter would have a hard time finding anyone to believe her. Even if the story did leak out, anyone who actually knew anything about bounty hunting would discount the tale as yet another urban legend - "Samus Aran is really a woman" would go right down with all the other stories that "really" identified her as a man, a robot, an alien and whatnot.

She would be safe - but only if she never allowed any other living creature to see her again.

_Well, that's not such a hard choice, is it?_

She could remain in her armor indefinitely if she had to. As long as she topped off her energy tanks every few weeks or so, the armor would perform all the necessary life-support tasks for her, and barring a catastrophic failure, she wouldn't even need to remove it for repairs. She could still continue to pursue her career - indeed, she might even find it easier to do so, since she would always be prepared to take down any bounty at any time. Social contact was completely out, of course, but all of that was for normal people, and she had never been normal. In hindsight, it had been folly for her to even try.

A meter or so away, her armor stood in its storage armature, powered down and connected to the ship's energy supply for charging. Its helmet lay on the nearby work bench, and Samus picked it up, tracing her fingers absently over the metal's contours, staring pensively into the mirrored green of the visor._  
_

_Get used to it, _she thought._ For the rest of your life, this is your face._

In the years that would follow, she never returned to New Pacifica. She never left her ship without her armor, nor allowed anyone else to learn her true identity. And until that fateful call from the Federation, she never saw the beautiful shapeshifter again.

* * *

Author's Notes: Ouch again. One-night stand gone horribly wrong, on both sides. 

"My grandfather built it for me" is a reference to Samus' Chozo guardian, whose name translates out of Japanese as either "Old Bird" or "Bird Grandfather."

* * *


	7. The Morning After

Chapter 7: The Morning After

* * *

The world faded in and out of focus, nameless gray shapes dancing in the void. Cold air hissed over her face, and the metallic, ionized smell nearly made her gag.

"She's coming to. Can you hear me, Samus?"

Samus blinked her eyes open as someone's hand planted itself in the middle of her visor, leaving a smear of disinfectant gel behind. A concerned face hovered just inches away, and she could just make out the uniform of a Navy medical officer. Beyond that, the bulkheads were adorned with monitors and equipment racks, all decorated in the antiseptic greens and grays that said "hospital" in every humanoid design archetype.

"What... happened?" she coughed out, gaze flickering around the room as she tried to take stock of her surroundings.

"You've been in a coma for the last month. We were afraid we'd lost you."

Memory began trickling back: the battle on Norion, racing to the orbital cannon controls as the Pirates' meteor weapon plummeted toward the planet's surface. The sudden appearance of her doppelganger from Aether, and her shock at seeing yet another creature she'd thought destroyed. The dark creature firing its weapon, herself unable to dodge, brilliant blue light searing her eyes as the Phazon blast slammed into her chest and she knew she was going to die--

"What about the meteor? Did we get it in time?"

"Yes, thanks to your great work," the doctor replied. "We found all of you unconscious in the control room. We brought you back to the Olympus, and our examination yielded some very surprising results. Somehow, all of your bodies are self-generating Phazon."

Samus' jaw smacked into the bottom of her helmet. "What did you just say?"

"You've all been corrupted by Phazon," the doctor explained. "However, since it doesn't seem to have any negative effects on your health, we thought, why not put it to good use?"

The doctor was still speaking, something or other about Hypermode and PED-equipped Marines, but Samus had already tuned her out. _Phazon... corrupted? How did this happen?  
_

"Why don't you try it out?"

"What? Oh, right. Very well." She looked down at the control panel bolted to her chest plate. "This button?"

As she pressed the Hypermode actuator, her vision flared and distorted into shades of gray and blue, and she gasped out loud as Phazon flooded into her suit's energy systems. Pure liquid pleasure hummed along every nerve, cool flame burning throughout her entire body, and every passing second increased the sensation until she felt sure she would explode herself.

"Test complete," the doctor said as the final target plate vaporized. "As you can see, Hypermode possesses devastating firepower."

**more**

"You don't suppose I could try that again, do you?" Samus asked, with a winning smile.

"I think once is enough for right now," the doctor replied. "We don't want you wearing yourself out."

Sudden, irrational rage flared across her mind at the refusal. _How dare you tell me--_ she thought, but tamped the anger down before she could say anything. _Wait, __why am I getting so upset over a weapon system?_

"Anyway, as I was saying, we've learned the hard way just how powerful our enemies have become. You'll need the PED's firepower. Make good use of it."

**kill**

"Did you just say something?" Samus asked.

The doctor shook her head. "Just wishing you luck."

_Hmm. Must be a malfunctioning audio pickup. Stupid Feds never do get the sensory systems right._ Shaking her head, Samus stepped out of the bio-pod and across to the hatch. "Thank you."

The hammering and grinding noises of construction work echoed through the Olympus' corridors as Samus made her way out of the sickbay, and everywhere she looked, work parties labored to repair the damage the flagship had sustained in the Pirate attack. In contrast to her last trip through this area, very few people stopped her to say hello, as most of them had far more pressing matters to attend. The few well-wishers she did encounter either shouted their greetings over turned shoulders or warned her to watch her step among the damage zones.

As she walked down the passageway to the flag bridge, a voice called out, "Samus! Glad to see you're feeling better."

She turned around and saw the source of the call, a Marine staff sergeant standing guard outside the lift to the Olympus' Aurora unit. "The AU asked to see you. You're cleared for the chamber, head on up any time."

"Very well," she replied, wondering why exactly it would want to see her in person. _It's not like it can't talk to me over the radio..._

"That's a PED, isn't it?" the NCO said conversationally as she waited for the lift. "Pretty high speed. Only elite troops get to handle that kind of firepower."

Samus just nodded as the lift arrived.

Once within the AU chamber, another guard directed her how to use the control system, and with a palmprint to the panel, the Aurora unit floated to the top of its containment tank. Its convoluted bulk bobbed and swayed in the eddies of the nutrient fluid that bubbled within, and she watched its movements with a shudder. Giant, disembodied brains in jars ranked very near the bottom of her list of favorite creatures in the galaxy.

"Welcome, Samus Aran," AU 242 said, apparently oblivious to her discomfort. "Let us begin. Time is most critical."

As Samus listened, AU 242 quickly recapped events during her month-long coma, finishing with the appearance of Phazon-bearing meteors on multiple other planets within the Kalandor system. "Each Leviathan carries a Phazon seed, which has begun to spread Phazon corruption throughout each of the planets. The Leviathans must be destroyed."

"All right, I'll take out the seeds for you," Samus replied. "What happened to the other hunters you hired, though? Why haven't I seen them here?"

AU 242 did not answer directly, instead continuing with its recitation. "Two weeks ago, we dispatched Rundas to Bryyo, Ghor to Elysia, while Gandrayda was sent to reconnoiter the Space Pirate stronghold."

That last sentence struck Samus like a fist to the stomach. "You sent _Gandrayda_ to Urtragia? Did you lose your neural-net mind?!" she shouted, barely restraining the urge to pound on the status panel for emphasis. _"_She's going to get killed out there! You know damned well she doesn't have the kind of training or fire--"

"Like you, they were outfitted with PEDs to confront this new threat," AU 242 interrupted her tirade. "We lost contact with them seven days ago, and fear the worst."

A melange of fear and guilt churned in her stomach as she realized just what a mess the Federation had created for itself. By upgrading their troops and the other hunters en masse with PEDs, they might as well have hung a "STEAL ME" sign on the technology. If the Space Pirates managed to kill or imprison a PED-equipped fighter, they would be able to use the Federation design to upgrade their own weaponry, perhaps to their point where she wouldn't be able to kill them at all. Worse yet, she couldn't even fault the Federation command for the decision. If she hadn't been out of commission, the admiralty would have sent her instead of the other hunters, and this never would have happened...

"Your first destination should be Bryyo. We will continue to provide you with information as we acquire it. Good luck."

The instant AU 242 dropped back into its holding tank, Samus bolted out of the chamber, running toward the docking bay as fast as her legs would take her. Once again, it was fear that drove her, but this time she couldn't have cared less for her own safety.

_Just hang in there,_ she thought, staring worriedly out the cockpit viewscreens as she flew out of the Olympus' docking bay. _I'm coming just as fast as I can._

* * *

She hadn't been fast enough.

Samus lay sprawled in her bunk, staring at the overhead as the gunship cruised through the eternal twilight of hyperspace. Under any other conditions, she would have been in the cockpit, but right now, she doubted she even had the energy to sit upright. Instead, she lay as quietly as she could, trying to focus on breathing.

By anyone's reckoning, this mission was rapidly turning from dismal to deadly. Her dark nemesis was still at large and growing stronger, working in league with the Space Pirates to spread Phazon throughout the galaxy. Two of her fellow hunters had fallen to the poison's siren song, and then died under her own blazing weapons. She herself was living on borrowed time, the corruption growing inside her with every Leviathan she destroyed.

_"We have discovered important information regarding your condition,"_ AU 242 had said, back on Bryyo when the first symptoms had begun showing themselves. _"Once activated, the unique Phazon within your body will eventually overreact, placing you at risk for terminal corruption. In providing you with the PED, we have inadvertently placed you in grave danger. We are sorry."_

With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair, ignoring the small clump of dull brass strands that clung to her armored gauntlet. She'd taken to leaving her helmet off while aboard her ship; the Phazon toxicity had brought on a more or less constant state of nausea as her body struggled to rid itself of the poison, and she didn't care to risk death by aspiration if she couldn't remove the helmet quickly enough. _What a joke that would be, the galaxy's greatest bounty hunter killed by Phazon morning sickness,_ she thought morbidly.

The ship AI's dispassionate voice broke through her musings. "Autopilot disengaged. N-space reentry in five seconds."

Seven seconds later, as the _Hunter III_ punched through into normal space, Samus was leaning over the waste recycler as the Phazon sickness overwhelmed her.

When it was over, she stumbled to the sink, splashing a double palmful of cold water over her face and rinsing the last of the residue out of her mouth and nose. Temporarily relieved, she walked the short distance back to the cockpit, dropping into the pilot's seat with a metallic thump.

_I suppose there's a way this planet could be uglier, but I can't imagine what it is,_ she thought sardonically as she evaded the few haphazardly placed security drones and slid the gunship into orbit around Urtragia. The Space Pirate homeworld had been utterly despoiled by decades of pollution and the more-recent onset of Phazon corruption. Acid rain poured down upon the rock and metal of the Pirates' warrens, and only the barest flashes of bloody light from the system's anemic red sun filtered through the chemical clouds. No amount of environmental rehabilitation would ever make this place fit for sentient life again.

The shipboard communications system beeped, and the lights dimmed as AU 242's hologram winked to life in the center of her control panel. "Excellent work, Samus. Thanks to you, Elysia is now free of corruption." The AU paused for a moment before continuing. "We have received an encrypted communication capsule from Gandrayda, containing information on the Pirate homeworld."

Samus sat bolt upright at those words, as hope dawned within. Perhaps the corruption wasn't as inevitable as Ghor had told her. After all, she had learned to control it; it wasn't too much of a stretch to suppose that the shapeshifter had done the same. "Gandrayda's still alive? What did she say?"

"The Leviathan is buried deep within the planet, and is protected by three energy shields. You will have to destroy these shields before you can access the Leviathan seed." A map reference flashed up with the words. "There is an abandoned landing site that you can use within the Pirate base. We will continue to monitor your progress."

As the Aurora had promised, only silence and shadows greeted her as she landed the gunship within the Pirate command post. A Crawltank and an automated turret guarded the lift to the Pirate headquarters, but a quick volley of plasma reduced them both to slag. Stepping over the wreckage, Samus headed for the lift and pressed the controls for the third floor.

_**CAUTION: Chemical hazard,**_ her HUD warned her as she approached the courtyard leading to the command post. The acid rain hissed as it struck the rocks, and dark fumes wafted up from the exposed steel of the Pirates' buildings and walkways. The few Pirates that braved the rain did so underneath large shields, and they never stayed outside for more than a few minutes at a time.

_It can't be that bad,_ she thought, taking an experimental step out into the courtyard. _With the Varia armor, I should practically be able to swim in--_ "OW!"

Droplets of acid burned straight through the suit's energy shielding and began eating into the armor beneath, and Samus ran for the safety of the entryway. The string of curses she rattled off would have done any Marine proud as she inspected the damage. "Son of a--"

Her suit radio bleeped at her, and a moment later, AU 242 spoke through her helmet's earpieces. "Samus, we believe there is a cargo supply route that connects directly to the seed. The gate in the command courtyard appears to be its main entrance. However, you will not be able to pass this area unless you can find protection from the acid rain."

"Oh really, you think?" Samus grumbled as she ducked under an overhead walkway, using it as cover from the rain as she inched toward the ventilation tunnels on the western side of the courtyard. A morph ball run through the tunnels led her through to a vault, and she took the X-ray visor upgrade from within before returning to the command station. Strangely, no Pirates pursued her, and she paused for a moment to catch her breath before proceeding.

Alone, she stared out into the rain.

It was just a bit rich, Samus mused, that a month ago, she would have been perfectly happy never to see Gandrayda again, and yet now she was risking her own life to save her. _I must be getting soft in my old age,_ she thought wryly, but in truth, she _had_ changed - not growing softer, but wiser, replacing her old fears and distrust with a kind of confident disregard. She knew who and what she was, and just as importantly, so did most of the galaxy. Where once she would have run in terror from the threat of being exposed, now she simply didn't care. She'd lived through far too much hell to concern herself with others' opinions of her.

Age and wisdom had also revealed another human emotion to her: loneliness. In the past, Samus had thought it enough of a life to travel the stars and battle the Space Pirates; the lot of a Defender had always been a solitary existence, and she had always preferred her own company. However, the few social experiences she'd had in her adult life had revealed a whole other world to her - one that, by habit if not by profession, she could never explore. The one chance she'd had at something more, she had destroyed through her own inexperience and fear, and more than once she had wondered if such an opportunity, having knocked once, would never return.

Her brief affair with Gandrayda all those years ago had come at a time in her life she would much rather forget, and even when they met again aboard the Olympus, she had regarded the shapeshifter as little more than a liability. Now, though, with the wreckage of the mission surrounding them and both their lives hanging in the same balance, all the old emotional baggage had melted away, replaced by a fierce desire to protect the other woman. Despite all that had happened between them, Gandrayda was the only person still alive who could understand what Samus was going through. And if they somehow managed to escape this planet, perhaps there was still hope for their survival.

_Gandrayda, where are you?_ she thought, pressing an armored hand to the glass. _Please, just let me know you're alive..._

* * *

Author's Note: Samus is pretty well a mess at this point physically, but she's finally figured out the emotional piece. Thank goodness for that; writing immature, "closeted" Samus (in the sense of hiding her identity, though perhaps in other senses as well) was getting tough!

Boldface text is the "voice" of the corruption. More of this will appear in future chapters.

The Aurora units use the "royal we" to refer to themselves throughout the game, which makes for amusing lines in some parts (the aforementioned "We are sorry" line being one of them).

The onset of Samus' Phazon sickness is shown in a fairly detailed cutscene after the battle with Mogenar and the destruction of the Bryyo seed. Quite possibly one of the most disturbing scenes in gaming.

Although the Space Pirate homeworld has no other name in the log book entries, the Shriekbats that live there are logged as Urtragian Shriekbats. Since every other species of Shriekbat is named for its homeworld (Bryyonian Shriekbats, Elysian Shriekbats, etc), I extrapolated from there. And yes, the rainfall will kill you within seconds, despite the fact that the Varia armor usually grants you immunity to chemical hazards. Must be some powerful acid rain. ;-)

Thanks to all who have read and reviewed!


	8. The Mark of the Beast

Chapter 8: The Mark of the Beast

* * *

As Samus stepped onto the lift that would take her out of the Pirate command station, a crackling whine buzzed in her earpieces, and a second later, a badly garbled voice emerged from the static. 

"...ear my... ation maree... isoner... s olim..."

Irritably, she smacked at the side of her helmet, but the transmission disappeared in a wash of white noise. _Could be I'm around too much metal,_ she thought. _Wait till I'm out of this shaft._

As she stepped off the elevator into the lift hub, the radio whined again, and this time the signal was accompanied by a blinking red icon on her HUD's mapping system - the universal indicator of a distress call. "If anyone can hear my voice, please help. I'm a Federation Marine, and I was taken prisoner during the Space Pirate raid on the _GFS Olympus. _I've managed to escape and hide myself in the Pirates' research facility. Here are my location coordinates. Please hurry, I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

_This kid's either suicidal or terminally stupid if he's broadcasting his location on a clear channel,_ Samus thought, but keyed her radio anyway. Regardless of the Marine's questionable level of combat intelligence, she couldn't simply leave him to die. "Help is on the way. ETA ten minutes."

Moving as quickly as she could, Samus ran through the landing site accessway and out to her ship, swinging herself through the ventral hatch and forward into the cockpit. Her navigation systems showed another landing site a few hundred meters from the Marine escapee's location, and an abandoned subway tunnel leading straight to it - she wouldn't even need to risk her ship's armor by flying out into the rain. With a smile, she plugged in the flight path as the _Hunter III _rumbled into the air.

The flight through Urtragia's underground took only a few minutes, and as before, she dropped through the hatch as soon as the ship touched down. This landing site led to a massive trash hoist, its controls nearly destroyed from years of abuse and neglect, and more than once she found herself nervously glancing at the cabling and tracks the hoist rode upon, looking for an emergency grapple point if the platform should drop out from underneath her. The exit at the top of the lift was blocked off by a malfunctioning gate, but a ventilation tunnel provided her the perfect morph ball pathway around it.

The reprocessing center she found on the other side rose a good thirty meters or so straight up, and the chains and cabling that would have provided perfect handholds for a Space Pirate to climb along offered her no purchase at all. Worse yet, between the lack of lighting, the generally non-radiopaque nature of the garbage piles, and the Phazon gas belching from the vents in the floor plating, she could hardly see at all. "Well, this ought to be fun," Samus muttered, grabbing a length of piping attached to the wall and shaking it to test its security before using it to hoist herself atop a scrap pile. The piled trash gave way as she leaped off it, though, sliding out from under her feet and depositing her in an ungraceful heap on the floor.

Samus grumbled a few curses under her breath as she crawled to her feet and dusted herself off, but luckily, the only thing she'd injured was her pride. Carefully leaping from heap to heap, she made her way to a dilapidated walkway about halfway up, and another handy ventilation tunnel allowed her to roll through the walls and up to the top of the room. As she attempted to hack the control panel to drop the access bridge and get herself out of the reprocessing center, though, a Pirate commando stepped through the door on the other side. It looked in her direction, walked away, and then looked again, growling to itself as though trying to decide whether to sound the alarm or not.

Samus flattened herself against the wall and froze, willing the Pirate not to notice her._ C'mon, you didn't see anything, just a trick of the light..._

BLATT! BLATT! BLATT! BLATT!

_Oh, hell._

Ducking behind the control pedestal, Samus took careful aim and let loose a volley of missiles at the Pirate security squad, bottling three of them up in the doorway. Rolling across to the other side of her perch, she opened fire again, this time catching the commando off-guard and causing him to lose his balance. He stumbled, teetered and fell, his shriek of anger abruptly cut short by a wet-sounding crunch as he landed in one of the Phazon vents.

_Better luck next time,_ Samus thought with a self-satisfied smile as she dropped the bridge, vaulted the gap and proceeded through the accessway, her travels taking her ever closer to the blinking red icon on her HUD.

The trail finally ended in a crane yard, and as she ducked and dodged through the grinding, clanking machinery, the sounds of gunfire drew her attention. Glancing toward the control chamber, she spotted a pair of Pirate militia exchanging fire with someone or something hidden behind a console. As the Pirates roared their anger, their quarry replied with a burst of gauss rifle fire.

_That's got to be him,_ Samus thought, charging a beam shot and unloading it into the Pirates. The creatures' insectile screams rapidly turned to silence under the onslaught of high-temperature plasma, and Samus glanced around the control chamber. "Soldier, if you're still alive, I'm a bounty hunter and I'm here to help you," she called out to whoever might have survived the attack.

A moment later, a human in Federation-issue armor cautiously peeked out from behind the console. His armor's upper arm bore the single chevron of a Marine PFC, and he wore a blissfully relieved expression behind his visor.

"Oh, Samus, thank the stars it's you!" the Marine said, lowering his rifle as the hunter approached. "I thought for sure I was a dead man. Listen, I saw those Pirates using an elevator that leads out of here. It should take us right back to the surface. It'll take two of us to activate it, though, so you'll have to help me."

"Very well," Samus replied. "Just tell me what to do."

A moment later, as they both pulled the activation levers, the elevator's control hologram winked and spun in the center of the platform. "This way out," the Marine said as they both stepped onto the elevator, which clanked into motion a second later.

"As I'm sure you know, the path to the Seed is exposed to acid rain. The Pirates use portable hazard shields to protect themselves from the elements," the Marine said as the elevator rumbled and screeched its way up the shaft. Grinning at her, he continued, "Lucky for you, I've seen where they make 'em."

The elevator shuddered to a stop, emerging into a large circular space. The remains of dozens of failed turrets, weapons, shielding systems and other military detritus lay scattered at the proving ground's edges. A dozen or so pieces of steel sheeting arced over most of the space, forming a haphazard roof over the elevator and leaving the edges of the area exposed to the constant downpour of acid. The only lighting came from a handful of low-power beacons, occasionally augmented by flashes of lightning, and Samus' eyes strained to see through the infernal gloom.

"After you."

Samus glanced at the Marine, who remained standing on the elevator platform, and the corruption percolated up within her, a sinister voice whispering to the depths of her most primal instincts.

**kill him hes only a liability**

Pushing the thought aside, she stepped off the elevator.

As she began walking toward the door, her helmet's audio pickups easily detected two sounds: no footsteps following her, and the click of the safety releasing on a gauss rifle. Acting on instinct alone, she launched her body to the left, rolling to her feet just as the hypersonic round sang past the right edge of her helmet.

With the sickening burn of betrayal in her chest, Samus raised her gaze to the Marine. "You," she whispered as Gandrayda appeared where he had once stood, laughing hysterically as the hunter tried to recover.

"You really shouldn't trust strangers, Sammy." The shapeshifter's eyes had turned the actinic blue of Phazon corruption, and she paced around Samus like a jungle cat stalking her prey. "This is going to be fun," she hissed, her words dripping malice as she activated her PED control unit.

"Gandrayda, you don't have to do this," Samus said quietly. "You can fight it. I did, I know you--"

Lightning rent the toxic clouds, and she saw her own face in the reflection of her visor. Phazon oozed from a gaping black scar that ran from her left eyebrow to her upper lip, and the pupils of her eyes had turned fluorescent green, radioactive blue light glowing from the irises.

**kill her blow her to pieces you know you want to DO IT NOW**

"You wish," she growled, chambering a missile into her cannon. "Bring it on."

"Gladly," Gandrayda shot back, transforming into a Berserker Lord before charging across the arena. Her first Phazon ground-wave caught Samus off guard, tripping her up as the second wave sizzled against her armor's energy shielding. "Not so tough now, are you?" she taunted, launching a trio of Phazon blobs Samus' way.

"Speak for yourself," the hunter replied, expertly shooting each bomb out of midair and reflecting them back to smash into the berserker's Phazite armor. The plating fell away with a crash, and Samus' armor glowed with Phazon energy as she unloaded a full tank of Hypermode shots into the beast's cranium.

"Ooh, that's going to give me a migraine." Gandrayda reverted to her own shape briefly before transforming again, this time into a Pirate Aerotrooper, which dove and wheeled to attack Samus from midair. "Hee, hee, hee, can't hit me!"

Swearing, Samus tried frantically to dodge the faux Pirate's attacks, but only managed to step into a bracket of fire as the Pirate's missiles slammed into her armor, draining away her energy with each blow. Howling with laughter, Gandrayda transformed into a dive-bombing cloud of Swarmbats before assuming another form, that of a Phyrigisian warrior.

"Aren't you happy to see me again?" Rundas' voice rumbled from the shapeshifter's body as a blow from his ice mace catapulted Samus across the arena. A moment later, Ghor replaced him, adding, "Since you enjoyed killing us so much the last time, we thought you might like a little rematch!"

Still stunned from Rundas' blow, Samus looked up to see the giant combat mecha accelerating toward her, firing missiles and plasma jets at top speed, far too fast for her to dodge. Reflexively, she activated the morph ball and ducked between the mecha's legs, allowing it to pass harmlessly over her head. The ball's speed boost made short work of the cooling mechanism suspended beneath Ghor's machine, and she ripped the mecha's back plate off with a grapple before firing a pair of missiles into its actuator relays. "Don't do this, Gandrayda," Samus pleaded, badly unnerved to see the colleagues she'd only too recently been forced to destroy. "Damn it, I didn't want to fight any of you! You were all my peers – my friends!"

"I was never anything but your whore," Gandrayda screamed, leaping across the arena to cling catlike to the front of Samus' armor. "Or maybe you were mine," she continued, smashing away at the sensitive electronics built into her helmet, even as her hips undulated against the hunter's lower torso in a perverted simulation of sex. "You couldn't get enough that night. Begging me for it. More, harder--"

**yes make her scream you know she wants it**

"Screw you," Samus snarled, hurling the shapeshifter to the floor before backhanding her viciously across the face. She leaped into the air, somersaulting toward the stunned Gandrayda, as brilliant orange energy began sparking from her armor.

Frozen in place, Gandrayda could only scream as the supercharged energy disc tore through her defenses, while Samus landed unharmed on the other side of the arena.

_That had to hurt,_ Samus thought, even as the tactical overlay in her HUD flashed crimson, its enemy monitor indicating that Gandrayda's energies had dropped below a third of their initial level. _Once she's down to a quarter, I'll finish her in Hypermode._ _I just can't take too many more hits, or I'll risk not having enough reserves._

"You know what I say," Gandrayda cackled, back-flipping across the arena and throwing a volley of energy rings at the hunter. "If you can't beat them, join them!" And with that, she shifted forms again, as a perfect clone of Samus began firing charged beam shots at the original.

"That just makes you a cheap knockoff artist," Samus yelled back, loosing a salvo of missiles at her double. One connected, and as Gandrayda flinched from the explosion, the second and third projectiles' homing heads acquired their target and detonated.

The HUD's tactical readout ticked from 28 to 23 percent, and she reached for the Hypermode actuator on her PED panel, the familiar narcotic rush of Phazon pouring into her energy supply. Rage bubbled in her blood, and the dark voice in her head had become a shriek now, hammering at her subconscious with its song of abomination.

**RIP HER APART WATCH HER BLOOD FLOW HEAR HER SCREAMS**

_Not unless I say so,_ she thought, leaping to avoid another of Gandrayda's flying attacks. _You don't control me. Not yet._

Gandrayda's form glowed brilliant teal through the swirling gray fog of her Phazon-altered vision, and she locked on and blasted shot after shot at the corrupted menace. She roared with triumph as the final few rounds struck home, exhausting her Phazon tank at the same time as Gandrayda's last reserves of energy.

Gandrayda swayed on her feet for a few agonizing seconds, and then she staggered and fell, her overtaxed body writhing and contorting as she morphed through all the shapes she'd taken in her final battle. A Berserker Lord howled and died. Clouds of Swarmbats exploded into purplish-blue mist. Rundas hung impaled amid shards of ice. Ghor screamed as his own machine ripped him apart. Samus lay sprawled on the arena floor, fear and agony written across that other face so like her own.

Unable to watch, she turned away, her fist clenching hard enough to dent the armor over her left palm.

"Please."

The racking whisper, delivered in Gandrayda's own voice, brought Samus' attention back to the scene. She had reverted to her true form, and a mix of Phazon and blood spurted from her injuries, in a noticeably slowing rhythm. Her eyes, though, were clear, finally rid of the corruption that had driven her to madness and beyond. "Please, help me..."

"What do you want?" Samus asked quietly, although she knew the other woman's wounds were beyond any hope of remedy. After all, she'd inflicted every one of them.

"Finish it." Gandrayda coughed, producing a welter of aubergine-colored liquid. "Before she does."

"Gandrayda, I..."

"No, listen. If I'm going to die, I want you to do it. I want to go out... on my own terms."

Denial hovered on the tip of Samus' tongue - she wasn't going to die, they could get out of here, find help - but the truth was written in blood on the arena floor. No surgery could repair that amount of trauma, and no medicine would cure the underlying Phazon toxicity. Even if they did make it back to Federation hands in time, all Gandrayda could hope for was a lingering death rather than a quick one. If their positions had been reversed, if Samus had been the one lying vanquished, she would have asked for the same final mercy.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded assent.

"Help me up?"

Carefully, Samus knelt next to the dying shapeshifter, pulling her into a seated position with the hunter's arm around her shoulders. "Better?" she asked, and Gandrayda nodded once, smiling faintly as she rested her head against the metal of her shoulder guard.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Gandrayda said softly, and Samus stiffened in surprise at the other woman's intuition of her feelings. "Each of us chose our own corruption... we all had a hook, something we wanted... more than anything. That's what she promised us. Rundas, his whole deal was pride... that whole best hunter in the galaxy thing... so she offered him unlimited power. Ghor wanted peace. So she said she would... make everyone united. No more wars, no more dead innocents, no more orphans."

"And what about you?" Samus queried.

"She promised me someone I'd lost... that I'd been trying to find ever since." The shapeshifter coughed and wheezed, and her voice had taken on a gurgling quality. "I should have known. She could promise all she wanted... but she could never be you."

Dumbstruck, Samus could only gape in reply.

"Too bad, you and me. We could have been good together."

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. "I was young and stupid and I treated you terribly. And in the end, it was only my own fear I was running from. In a way, I think I've been running ever since."

"S'okay. I know why you did it. It was my own fault... as much as anything. You'd think I would know better... than to stalk someone into having it off."

"Well, that didn't help any either," Samus agreed. After a moment, she finished, "Even back then, though, I could never really blame you for that. I just wish things had turned out differently."

"Piece of advice?" Off Samus' nod, Gandrayda smiled as she tapped her knuckles on the hunter's chest plate. "Don't... don't stay locked up in there. You always did... need to get out more."

"And here I thought you said never to trust strangers," Samus pointed out with a half-hearted chuckle.

"Temporary insanity," the shapeshifter replied, which made both of them smile. "Seriously... you shouldn't be alone."

"I'll try. I can't guarantee anything... but I'll try."

Gandrayda nodded, and then her body spasmed with pain, as the gurgle in her breathing became a harsh rattle. "She's coming. I can feel her. Can you?"

Indeed, the room had begun to fill with a black mist, and cyan flashes of Phazon danced and winked in the miasma. Their time had run out.

"Do promise..." The shapeshifter began to cough and struggle, convulsing against the metal arms that held her, and for a terrifying moment, Samus thought she might die right then. "Promise me you'll survive. Take the bitch down. You have to. You're the only one who can."

"I will. I swear." The helmet's speech synthesizer, as good as it was, couldn't hide the tears in her voice. "I'm so sorry. I never..."

"Don't cry." Gandrayda raised a shaking hand to her helmet, caressing the metal as though it were her own cheek. "Never could stand... seeing a pretty girl cry." She closed her eyes, her breathing becoming shallow. "I'm ready."

Slowly, Samus laid the shapeshifter's body on the arena floor and stood upright, going through the motions of arming her beam cannon with shaking hands. The aiming reticle settled itself right over the PED's control shield, and the heart which lay beneath. She paused and blinked a few times, but her vision refused to clear.

"Sammy... thank you. For everything."

Closing her eyes, she pulled the trigger.

* * *

Author's Note: Sadly, that scene couldn't have ended any other way, but I tried to give Gandrayda a better send-off than the game did. 

One more chapter to come. Thanks again for reading!


	9. Lux in Tenebris Lucet

Chapter 9: Lux in Tenebris Lucet

* * *

"Sir, all ships present and ready to proceed," the _GFS Olympus'_ captain said, as the Federation flagship hovered behind the massive bulk of the Leviathan they'd captured.

"Good," Admiral Dane replied. "Leviathan Command, you are clear to fire the portal beam. Once the wormhole is open, order all ships to enter."

The wormhole transition, unlike the usual tearing boil of hyperspace transit, occurred suddenly and silently. In one second, Third Fleet hung just outside Urtragia's orbit; the next, they found themselves an equivalent distance from a world no human had ever laid eyes upon.

"God Almighty, look at that," one of the sensor technicians muttered, staring with goggle-eyed shock at his displays. "Nothing but Phazon, as far as anyone can see."

"As you were," the section chief grumbled, but he, too, studied the planet with rapt fascination.

Another operator frowned in concentration as a series of ghostlike energy signatures began tracing across her plot. A moment later, they resolved into dozens of discrete forms, and her jaw dropped as she realized the magnitude of what was bearing down upon them. "Chief, take a look at this...!"

The sensor chief glanced at the display and instantly reached the same conclusion his crewman had. "Conn, Sensors! Multiple hostile contacts bearing dead ahead!" he yelled.

"Sound Condition Red," the captain replied. "Your orders, sir?" he continued, turning to the admiral as the emergency horns began to blare throughout the ship.

"How many are there?" Admiral Dane queried, staring into the tactical plot.

"Twenty... no, thirty capital ships, and God only knows how many small craft. Five battleships, seven cruisers, the rest are destroyers and frigates. Range 1.1 megaklicks and closing. Time to intercept... one minute forty-seven seconds, sir."

"All right, if they want a fight, they've got one," Admiral Dane mused. "Helm, make your course 330 mark 015, all ahead full. Weapons, you have guns free, but I want hard locks before you fire. Make each shot count. Pri-Fly, clear to launch all fighters and assault craft. Comms, signal to all ships 'Execute Tivus' and then leave the channel open."

The communications chief tapped a series of commands into his panel. Throughout each of the Federation ships, the allcall speakers whined, "Now hear this, now hear this. Stand by for a message from the Fleet Admiral." Thousands of men and women listened as Dane's voice crackled across the lines.

_"All hands, this is Admiral Dane. We have transited through an artificial wormhole to the planet Phaaze, which we have identified as the source of all Phazon in the galaxy. As you may already know, the Space Pirates have gathered a large fleet here, with which they intend to make their last stand. I do not intend to leave them standing."_

Nods, quiet agreements and ooh-rahs met the admiral's words as he continued speaking.

_"While we engage the enemy fleet in orbit, one of our Special Forces units will proceed to the planet's surface and destroy their ground support. The battle we face will not be easy, but you are the finest fighting men and women the Federation - indeed, all of galactic civilization - has to offer. I have every confidence that each one of you will perform to the utmost of his or her ability. Let's give them hell. Dane, out."_

As the admiral handed the headset back to the communications chief, he said, "Let her go."

"Aye, aye, sir," the man replied. Placing the headset back on his own head, he opened another channel, this one directed to a single ship. "_Hunter III,_ this is _Olympus._ You are clear for insertion. We'll hold them off for as long as we can."

_"Copy that,"_ a familiar synthetic voice replied, as the brilliant orange gunship dropped out of the _Olympus'_ sensor shadow and accelerated toward the planet.

"Godspeed, Samus. _Olympus_ out."

The Pirate vessels, totally occupied with the oncoming Federation fleet, completely missed the gunship as she made her way toward Phaaze. Juking and diving to avoid the incidental fire from the Pirates, Samus didn't even bother establishing orbit, but punched the gunship straight down into the planet's gravity well. The shields strained to their utmost limits as the _Hunter III _arrowed toward the surface, and inside the cockpit, small items flew about willy-nilly as violent shockwaves from the high-speed descent rattled the ship like a child's toy.

_Why do I think I'm headed for a world of hurt,_ Samus thought wryly, watching through the cockpit windows as the gunship began to decelerate in preparation for landing. True to its name, Phaaze consisted of nothing but Phazon - Phazon atmosphere, Phazon oceans, Phazon rock, Phazon life-forms. Cerenkov light pulsed into the radioactive skies, and a forest of giant pseudopods, each hundreds of meters tall, undulated to some mysterious rhythm.

The gunship sank a few centimeters into the soil as it touched down, only stabilizing with the deployment of the ventral hatch. Samus hesitated for just a second on the hatch cover, looking at the alien landscape with a certain sense of finality. After all, if the mission went to plan, she would be the first and the last to see it in person. _Here goes--  
_

As her boots touched the spongy material of the planet's surface, Phazon swirled all around her, sparking and slithering over her armor. Energy surged over her, her feet floating off the ground as the material's reaction rate rose steadily toward criticality, and nausea burned its way up the back of her throat as she felt the corruption within rising to welcome it. She reached for the PED's purge button, hoping to clear it out before it caused too much damage, but the system only beeped at her in denial, as a supremely unhelpful error message popped up in her HUD.

_**Cannot cancel Hypermode**_.

With an azure flash, the Phazon reached critical mass, and she began to convulse as Phazon poured into and through her body, metastasizing through heart, lungs, blood and bones. Agony slashed along every nerve, and she curled instinctively into a fetal position, her voice devolving into an endless, inhuman scream as blue tears dripped inside her helmet. Corruption hovered an instant away, ready to claim her.

_Not yet, damn you. I have a promise to keep first._

Through sheer willpower alone, she forced a shaking hand up to her PED control panel. Her fingers skittered uselessly off the metal at first, but she forced them back down upon the purge button, holding it down to manually override the safety systems.

_**ALERT: Emergency vent activated. Hypermode lock engaged.**_

Her suit's energy storage systems dumped their charge in a rush of static electricity, and the pain receded like fog in the morning sunlight as sensation and control returned to her body.

As the energy tanks finished purging, her HUD reset itself, replacing the familiar tank graph with a yellow monitor bar. The planet's innate, intense levels of Phazon radiation had done exactly what AU 242 had predicted, back on Bryyo an eternity ago. She was permanently and completely corrupted, forced to vent Phazon every minute just to stay alive. However, the condition came with an unexpected benefit: a limitless supply of Phazon with which to power her Hypermode weaponry.

_For what little time I'll get to use it, this could be fun._

Samus began to follow the winding maze of tunnels, leading her ever deeper into Phaaze's interior. Scores of Phazon Hoppers, Jelsacs and Phazon-altered metroids manifested with each turn, along with a few creatures hitherto unknown to any realm but that of nightmare: membranous carpets that snared and ate anything fool enough to step on them, snarling maws that snapped and slavered from the walls. They all died the same way, though, blown apart by the unending stream of Phazon from her weapons as she fought her way to the planet's inner sanctum.

The tunnels finally led into a creche of sorts, swarming with metroids and seething with Phazon energy. From the ceiling hung an enormous chrysalis tens of meters across, and a discarded exoskeleton lay upon the bubbling, hissing floor beneath. _That thing looks familiar,_ Samus thought, and a quick glance at her scan visor confirmed her suspicion. The carapace belonged to the same species of creature the Space Pirates had mis-identified as a "prime" metroid back on Tallon IV, which had metamorphosed and now slept within the cocoon.

_Huh, so the Worm was really a baby Leviathan. I wish Grey Voice could have seen this._

Of course, as she pried the chrysalis open and began to fire upon the creature inside, she reflected that the Chozo scientist might have liked to see her slay the abomination as much as study it.

As the infant Leviathan finally died, its chrysalis exploded under the overload of Phazon, and the blast destabilized a chunk of the floor, revealing a massive cavern below. Carefully stepping to the edge, Samus stared into the chasm, watching intently as a few chunks of rock, knocked loose by her footsteps, tumbled soundlessly into the yawning darkness. The pit descended untold distances into the planet's depths, much too far for any chance of climbing, wall-jumping or speed-boosting out. Once she started down, there would be no returning.

_Well, I always knew this would be a one-way ticket,_ she thought with morbid humor. Somehow, the realization of her own impending death didn't frighten her at all.

With a slow, sad smile, she closed her eyes and leaped off the edge.

Down, down, falling faster and faster, the spectral walls of the pit rushed past her as she plummeted into the abyss. A minute ticked past, then two, and yet she continued falling with no end in sight. The atmosphere began to thicken, gravity itself losing its grip, and as the bottom approached, she executed a series of mid-air flips, using the increasing drag on her body to slow herself to a survivable landing speed. Landing lightly on her feet, she raised her arm cannon and looked around, surveying the chamber with wary eyes. _Come out, come out, wherever you are..._

The floor irised open, revealing the very core of Phaaze below, molten Phazon pulsing and writhing in its depths. As she stared into it, fascinated, the dark hunter leaped out, coming to a stop a few centimeters above the floor as it slid shut once more. Crimson nuclei flickered behind its visor, and she could almost sense the creature's anticipation as Phazon energy began to coil along the contours of its weapon.

"All right, you bitch," she said, her voice frigid as she took aim. "This time, we play for keeps."

Laughter echoed off the walls as the dark hunter back-flipped away, gliding behind one of the half-dozen Phazon stalagmites that had erupted from the floor. Samus ran toward it, intending to blast it with a missile, but the creature threw up a thicket of Phazon spikes around its body, harmlessly intercepting the projectile and very nearly skewering the hunter in mid-step. Dodging to the side to avoid the spikes, Samus leaped as high in the air as she could, using her altitude advantage to launch another missile. This shot sliced over the top of the spikes, blasting the dark hunter out of its cover and sending it skidding a meter or so across the floor. It staggered to its feet amid a storm of charged beam fire, and it cried out in anger and frustration as the attacks began to eat into its protective armor.

Half a dozen renditions of the same dance later, the dark hunter glided to the center of the room. It split into three replicas of itself, each echo ensconcing itself in a massive bubble of Phazon as it attempted to restore the energy Samus' attacks had drained away. "Nice try, but no," Samus taunted the creatures, knocking each out of the air with the same long-duration charged beam blasts that had disabled the original so effectively. The dark hunter fell heavily back to the arena floor, but recovered, echoing itself again and gliding away behind a pillar.

Samus snarled in frustration as the echoes began working in concert, setting one echo out to be attacked while the other two concentrated their fire on her. With three of the immensely powerful creatures attacking her simultaneously, Samus was hard pressed to avoid their fire at all, let alone generate any of her own, and her internal Phazon levels were slowly rising under the constant fusillade of missiles, bombs and beams. Strangely, though, the creature broke off the tripartite attack after a few minutes, resuming its solo form and continuing to orbit the arena. Perhaps it couldn't maintain the stress of manifesting and controlling the echoes, or perhaps it had simply grown bored. Either way, Samus took full advantage of the reversion, keeping her distance and directing a steady stream of missiles at the dark hunter. Her HUD's tactical overlay flashed red with every shot, and she grinned as its energy reserves dropped lower and lower.

The dark hunter fell to one knee, shaking with either pain or exertion, as its body glowed from the barrage Samus had put it through. Before she could finish it off, though, it floated away, as the far wall collapsed to reveal the true master of Phaaze: AU 313, in all its corrupted glory.

"What is it with me and giant brains," Samus chuckled to herself. "Let's see if you can do any better than your prototype."

A camera flipped out from the AU's left temporal region, studying Samus briefly, and then a pair of tentacles emerged from the same area. She destroyed one instantly, but the second survived long enough to spit a blob of Phazon at her. The projectile splattered and soaked into her armor, spiking her Phazon levels, and she fired wildly at the brain to vent off the excess before it corrupted her fatally. A few shots landed in the holes left by the destroyed tentacles, though, and her tactical overlay blinked yellow - the rounds hadn't damaged the brain, but they had stunned it.

_That's an interesting idea,_ Samus thought, as a plan took shape in her mind. When the AU next deployed its tentacles, she blasted one away, but instead of immediately switching her fire to the others, she continued attacking the amputated tentacle's root, dodging the shots lobbed at her from the other three. The concentrated dose of Phazon energy overloaded the AU's control centers, and it slumped to the ground, allowing her to grapple open its frontal armor and unload the remainder of her Phazon overburden into its exposed cerebral cortex. That attack chewed away a massive amount of energy from the AU's reserves, and Samus regarded the brain with a feral grin. "What's wrong, got a headache?"

The AU groaned as it rose back into the air, and its exterior plating began to spark, as a node of purple energy formed in the center of its frontal lobe. A moment later, a beam of supercharged Phazon energy lanced out from the node, leaving meter-deep scars in the floor as it locked on and swung toward its target. _Oh, hell,_ Samus thought, frantically leaping away as the beam sliced toward her. She'd seen what the AU's low-level Phazon bursts would do; she had no delusions about her survival odds if she let that beam weapon hit her.

Samus tried to hit the AU with a charged shot, hoping to make it break off its attack, but the blast flew wide as she tripped on the ruined floor. The Phazon beam caught Samus' left thigh and seared a path all the way down her leg, cartwheeling her into the wall. She tried to stand, but the leg promptly gave out beneath her, bolts of pain shooting up the limb as she collapsed face-first onto the arena floor.

_That's it, then,_ she thought, with a sad snort of a laugh. With one leg out of commission, she could do very little other than wait for the beast to finish her off._ Gandrayda, I'm sorry... it looks like I'll have to break my promise to you after all._

Strangely, though, the AU hung motionless, and Samus studied it with consternation. Why wasn't it attacking?_  
_

**You can't defeat me,** the dark hunter whispered from the depths of her subconscious.** Why do you continue to struggle, when you could join me? I know the deepest desire of your heart, and I can grant it to you. **

"You lie," Samus said, gritting her teeth against the agony in her leg and the pain of her ever-rising corruption. "I saw what you did to my friends. They never wanted your poison... and sure as hell they didn't want to die of it."

**They were but weak tools, that heard my words and accepted my gift, but did not believe in my vision. You, though, I will exalt above all my other disciples, and grant you power beyond all imagination. You shall be an example to all the galaxy** **of what I will do for the one whose faith in me remains true.**

"Why? What's in it for you?"

**You of all people should know that. You and I have a special bond, more than any of my other disciples. How could we not, when you gave me life? **

"No, you stole it from me, just like you've stolen everything else," Samus shot back. "My weapons, my armor, my DNA, my _name_... those things are _mine._ You had no right to take them."

**But I use them for a greater purpose than you ever dreamed of,** the dark hunter replied, as one of its echoes materialized from within the AU and floated toward her. **You fight for money and injustice. I fight for peace and freedom. As all things are made perfect in this holy substance, so your purpose is made perfect in me.**

Weakly, she tried to roll away from the approaching creature, but only succeeded in flopping onto her back. "No, you're wrong," she ground out. "Your perfection is death, your peace is corruption... and that's just slavery by another name."

The echo stood over her, almost as though gloating, as it waved a sparkling hand in the air. **You seem to have confused me with the masters you now serve. They rape entire planets and take the last sparks of energy from the people to feed their own greed. Their petty wars and foolish laws have caused more destruction than I ever have. You know this, and you know it to be wrong even as you fight to defend it. But if you join me, you could put an end to all that. I am a kind mistress, who only seeks to bring peace to the galaxy. Y****ou will be my greatest apostle, hailed as the hero who saved all of civilization from an eternity of suffering. All I ask is that you give yourself to me. **

Wounded, sick, dying, Samus stared up at the echo. _She makes it sound so easy,_ she thought. _Give up, let her win - she's right, I can't fight any further. Maybe it would be for the best. No more wars, no more crime - would it really be so bad?_

_"You have many roads ahead of you, Hatchling, and it's up to you to choose the one you will travel.__ Be the true defender of the galaxy."_

_"We each had a hook... something we wanted more than anything. That's what she promised us."  
_

_"Hey, we're the good guys! Justice will prevail and all that - right, Samus?"_

_"Take the bitch down. You have to. You're the only one who can." _

Samus nodded once, letting out a pained sigh. "You're right..."

**I am glad you see the truth,** the dark hunter whispered. **Your power will become mine, and--**

"NNNAAAAAAHH!"

Surging up from the floor on one leg, Samus blasted the echo into bits with a missile, and then began to fire at the AU's vertebral supports as fast her her finger would pull the cannon's trigger. The onslaught of Phazon ripped the structures apart, and the detached cerebrum swerved, sagged and hung drunkenly in midair, allowing Samus a clear line of fire to its vulnerable hindbrain.

"This is for Rundas," she snarled, firing a missile into the AU's cerebellum. "This is for Ghor," came a follow-up charged beam into the medulla. "This is for Gandrayda," she continued as she threw a grapple into the remains of the spinal nerves and dumped as much energy as she could stand down the line. "For the Chozo... for the Luminoth... for the planets you've destroyed... for every sailor, Marine and civilian you've slaughtered... AND THIS IS FOR ME!"

AU 313, pushed beyond every design limit and utterly overloaded with Phazon, simply detonated.

The force of the explosion shattered the walls and threw Samus across the remains of the chamber, slamming her into the floor like a rag doll. From within the ruins of the AU, the dark hunter emerged, shrieking in anger and agony as it, too, finally succumbed. With the last remains of its power, it floated skyward, trying to regenerate itself as it had done so many times, but the effort failed – the damage was just too catastrophic. Emitting one final howl, the dark creature blew apart in a storm of Phazon particles, and Samus let out her own scream as the world dissolved into blue oblivion.

It might have been seconds or hours before she came to, but as she opened her eyes, she realized that the crippling nausea she'd felt ever since the onset of the corruption was gone – in fact, she felt completely normal. When she tried to look around, though, she noticed that her helmet didn't move with her head, and no HUD was visible in her visor. _What the?_ she thought, trying to sit up and failing as her back, abdomen and hips refused to bend. The armor had completely shut down – only her limbs could move, and that was limited at best without the armor's actuators to power the heavy, vacuum-sealed joints.

_Great safety feature there,_ Samus thought wryly. The armor was designed to lock out movement in the neck and torso joints under certain failure modes, thereby reducing the risk of a potentially fatal head or spine injury. The lockout had likely saved her life, preventing her from breaking her neck in the explosion and her subsequent seizure, but it had also deprived her of any means of escape. Unless she could power the suit back up again, she would be doomed to die along with everything else that lived in the bowels of the planet. _I just hope to heavens this thing still comes back on startup..._

Struggling against the recalcitrant joints, she raised her left arm to the auxiliary controls on the side of her cannon, pressed the first and third buttons and clenched her right hand. The beep and whir that echoed in her helmet just might have been the sweetest sound she'd ever heard, as the familiar boot messages began scrolling down her HUD.

_** Chozo Battle Suit  
Ver. SA1-4468-VM6-P  
System check initiated...  
ALERT: One or more system files damaged or corrupted. Restoring last known stable configuration...**  
**ALERT: The following system files have been removed.  
File .sys-armr-ped  
File .sys-misc-hgrap  
File .sys-mobl-hball  
File .sys-weps-hbeam  
File .sys-weps-hmiss  
System Diagnostics: OK  
**_

Sitting upright, Samus tested her remaining limbs for range of motion. The suit responded like an old friend, its familiar yellow and orange contours flexing with her movement--

_Wait a minute. Orange?_

A closer inspection revealed that the armor had regained all its past characteristics, even down to its color. The PED control panel sat inert on her chest plate, useless with no source of Phazon to power it. The corruption was gone.

With an effort, she levered herself to one knee and then to a standing position, balancing as much of her weight as possible on her right leg. All around her, the cavern quaked and began to crumble as Phaaze itself entered its final throes, driven by the cascading destruction of the Phazon that held it together. One particularly violent explosion blew the roof off the cavern, and stars twinkled through the dust.

She couldn't help it; she began to laugh, quietly at first and then with more enthusiasm. Somehow, against all odds, the planet itself had provided her a way out.

Thousands of meters above her head, the cavern began to rumble anew, as the _Hunter III_ maneuvered its way down the shaft. Samus half-hopped, half-crawled to the hatch as it slid open, hauling herself up and into the cockpit with the last remains of her energy.

_**ALERT: Planetary collapse imminent. Evacuate immediately.**_

"You've got no argument from me," Samus murmured, leaning back in the pilot's seat. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Epilogue - Three Weeks Later

The fading sun washed the spires and spheres of Skytown in its golden glow, and a light breeze whistled through the wires linking the ancient platforms together. Off in the distance, a flock of mechanical flyers swooped and dived through the clouds. Only one living creature saw the spectacle.

Alone on the westernmost of the airdock platforms, Samus stared out at the sunset. The stone head of a Chozo Defender jutted from the doorway's lintel, guarding the entrance. It was a fitting place for a war memorial.

The previous three weeks had passed in a blur - for the first six days, a literal blur, as she'd been bundled into a cryostasis pod and immediately shipped to the intensive care unit at GFB Norion's on-base hospital. Corruption notwithstanding, she had absorbed a near-fatal dose of radiation in the pit while waiting for her ship to arrive, and there had also been the matter of repairing her leg, which had been lacerated from thigh to ankle and grossly irradiated by AU 313's Phazon beam attack. She still limped a bit from the wound, but the Federation medical staff had assured her of a complete recovery, given time.

The mental injuries from her adventures proved a bit tougher to repair, though, as night after night, she would awaken screaming as memories of the incident haunted her dreams. Since she had refused the doctors' offers of medication and psychotherapy in specific, colorful terms, the base psychologist had suggested that she take up either writing or art as a more individual means of dealing with the trauma. Initially she had undertaken his recommendation out of sheer perversity - the look on the man's face when she had requested fifty kilograms of clay and a set of sculptor's tools had been well worth the price of admission - but to her surprise, she had indeed found a kind of catharsis in the work, as her project took on a life of its own. Two of the results stood on Phrygis and on Wotan VII; the third rested in the _Hunter III_'s equipment bay, and it was there that she now headed, removing the piece from its wrappings and setting it carefully on the airdock platform.

A ray of sunlight illuminated the interior of her helmet, and for a moment, she saw her own face reflected in the green glass-like material of its visor. It was the same face she'd seen in the mirror every day of her adult life; no Phazon scars marred her features, her eyes were the same sky blue they'd been before the corruption. Unbidden, her memory drifted back over the events of the crisis, the evil that had claimed so many of her friends, to which she herself had so nearly fallen victim.

Her fingers reached for the release mechanism concealed under the helmet's chin, and with a jerk, she pulled it off, taking in a deep breath of the rarefied Elysian air.

Walking across the platform with slow, measured steps, she stopped and stood before the entry to the rest of the complex. With the same careful movements, she placed a small sculpture, about a meter tall and executed in ceramic, beside the doorway. Although she was no Chozo artisan, the subject of the piece was clearly recognizable: a slender female humanoid, her short hair styled in waves, one hand holding a chakram. A wide smile adorned her features, and her free hand was raised to her mouth as though laughing.

_We all find our own Elysian fields, wherever it is that we go behind the veil of the universe, _Samus thought, a faint smile curving her lips even as tears prickled behind her eyelids. _And maybe someday, I'll see you in mine._

* * *

Author's Notes: That's it!

"What is it with me and giant brains" - we all know what Samus is referring to here. :-) AU 313 apparently cribbed its Phazon laser attack from Mother Brain's "brain blast" in _Zero Mission_ and later in _Super Metroid,_ as it's generated in much the same fashion and inflicts a similarly preposterous amount of damage.

The reboot sequence is taken from _MP2._ The -nix operating system layout is my own invention.

Many, MANY thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this story. For whatever reasons anyone might write, it is the reader who makes the effort worthwhile. Thank you all for doing so for me.


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